Cursed Book II: The Seventh Year
by bccaw
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year, Severus is watched by the new DADA professor, and Harry still doesn't trust Draco. Severus and Hermione begin to see more of each other than they expected.
1. Chapter 1: Wendell and Monica Wilkens

_This fic is actually book two of my fic, "Cursed" (.net/s/4601682/1/Cursed). Book one is twenty-five chapters long, and I anticipate that the second part will be close to that length by the end. I plan to finish this fic in two parts. In this book, there will be romance. Eventually. I promise. _

_Thanks to all of you who have waited patiently for the second book. I truly hate to keep you waiting. I will do my best update frequently. Please encourage me by reviewing, it is the best motivator to know that people are reading and waiting for the next chapter! _

_And now, without further ado, I present... chapter one. _

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**Chapter One: Wendell and Monica Wilkins**

Hermione Granger sat on the new squashy sofa by the window with a book in her lap, massaging her temples. She had been reading all morning, and now even the faint ticking of the clock in the hall made her head throb. Hermione groaned and uncurled her legs from under her, tossing the book on the floor. She lay on the couch with her arm over her eyes, trying to shut out the light. A light breeze blew in under the gauzy curtains she had hung, making a stray curl tickle her face.

Harry was running the shower upstairs. The old pipes protested as a magically-enhanced stream of water rushed through them. Hermione had quickly grown tired of the trickle of water that used to slosh out of the showerhead and had spent an hour researching plumbing charms the night before.

Since returning from Australia, Harry had been trying to erase the memories from Grimmald Place with aggressive repairs and redecorating. Hermione had helped him order new furniture and fix the creaky stairs. She had researched everything from self-hammering nails to chimney-sweeping spells. The only part of the house left untouched was Siruis' old room.

In one week Harry and Hermione would return to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year. Harry didn't have do it. The Ministry had guaranteed him immediate placement in the auror program. He had told them that he wanted to earn the right to be an auror, just like anyone else. Hermione wanted to believe that Harry was going to take his studies seriously for the first time in his life, but she suspected that it was only pride and his intense dislike of fame that had kept him from accepting the Ministry's offer. He had never had any qualms before over accepting grades that Hermione earned for him. She had finally asked him about it, warning him that she wouldn't be writing essays for him anymore.

"I know, Hermione. I probably should have just taken the spot in the auror program," he said, "School will be a nightmare this year. Snape's Headmaster, and with the whole school acting like I'm a god, he's going to hate me more than ever. I'll probably be expelled. But I couldn't start auror training. I still don't even really understand how I defeated Voldemort! Everyone sees me as this invincible, deadly wizard with powers the Dark Lord didn't have… but they're wrong. I don't know anything."

Hermione agreed that Harry was not ready for auror training, but she reassured him that he was the best defense student Hogwarts had seen in years. Hermione was glad that Harry was returning to Hogwarts. He was the only friend she could depend on. Having recently broken up with Ginny, they had spent a lot of time together since Snape's recovery from the curse.

"I just couldn't have the same fight again," Harry had said the night of the break-up, when he came to Hogwarts, "She's crazy! She'll tell me that she thinks Ron was wrong, but she expects me to act like nothing happened and 'get on with life'. Well I can't! Padma's still there, you aren't, and Ginny always takes Ron's side! She never would have let him get away with being such a selfish prat _before_…"

_Before Fred was killed, _thought Hermione. Harry was right. The Ginny she knew would never have condoned Ron's behavior, or accepted Padma so easily. Hermione knew she shouldn't play psychologist with her friends, but she got it from her mother. It was her mother's overly confident analysis of other people's relationships that prompted her to bluntly share her opinions, often making things worse for the people she was trying to help. So, Hermione tried to keep her observations to herself.

Hermione thought that a break was just what Harry and Ginny needed. Ginny had decided not to put Harry before her family, which was cutting him out of her life. Even though Harry had long been considered an adopted Weasley, he had been separated from the family by Fred's death. The seemingly tight-knit Weasely family was now trying to repair the bonds that had been broken and neglected over the past years. Percy was back, and Bill and Charlie visited much more often.

Harry was no stranger to loss, but he could not imagine what it was like to try to repair the fabric of comfortable, everyday life together because he had never had a home like that.

In the end, Hermione had simply told Harry not to give up on the Weasleys, especially Ginny and Ron, and asked him if he would come to Australia with her to find her parents.

"Ron was supposed be the one to go with you," Harry had said darkly, "Did you ask him?"

Hermione sighed. Harry was about as sensitive as a rock.

"Ron and I aren't exactly on good terms, or haven't you noticed? Besides," Hermione couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice, "He's probably forgotten about that by now."

The next day, Harry pulled some strings at the Ministry and got them a portkey for a 'vacation' in Australia before returning to school. Luckily, Kinsley Shacklebolt was able to do it discreetly and Hermione was spared the fiasco of the _Prophet, _specifically Rita Skeeter, spreading the rumor that she was Harry's new girlfriend.

Hermione had visited Ron and Ginny before she left. Sitting in the Weasley's kitchen drinking tea, she told them that she and Harry were leaving in two days to look for her parents. Ron fumbled his way through an excuse, turning red. He had promised George that he would help him get the shop back up and running that week. Hermione might have reminded him of the time he had held her while she cried and promised to help her find her parents, but she was only able to swallow with some difficulty as the memory of Fred filled the silence between them.

Ginny had been a mess that day, her hair pulled back carelessly into a ponytail, wearing a faded t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder, one of Bill's old band shirts. There were graphic fanged teeth on the front with the words, "Vampire Ire" and "Bite me".

"I hope they're okay, and that you find them soon, Hermione," Ginny said, staring determinedly at her teacup, "I wish I could come with you… but that's impossible now."

It was then that Hermione was finally convinced that Ginny really loved Harry. She had expected Ginny to be angry after the breakup. Ginny had flippantly broken a few hearts before Harry noticed her, falling quickly into relationships with boys like Dean and dropping them when it wasn't fun anymore. What could be more romantic that believing you were destined to be with your childhood crush and would never be able to love anyone else? Ginny had professed that belief more than once to Hermione, who had tried not to scoff at the idea.

Hermione didn't believe in fated love. She still thought divination was a load of crock, and even though wizards believed in prophecy, she remained a skeptic.

Hermione wondered what it was like to have your heart broken, to feel like half of your soul was missing, or however it was supposed to feel when you suddenly lost 'the one'. She glanced at Ron and tried to imagine what she would have done if they had had a real breakup – or even a real relationship. Would she have been like Ginny, lifeless and deflated?

Hermione and Harry went to Australia. It was easy to find her parents. They were the only two dentists in Australia with the last name 'Wilkens'. They had their own practice and a sleek website complete with photos of themselves. Hermione had cried when she saw them on the computer screen at the Muggle hotel where she and Harry were staying. They took a bus to her parents' office and watched it all day. Her father arrived in the morning and left around five. Harry and Hermione hid in the back of his car under the invisibility cloak, using Muffliato to hide their breathing. Her father parked the car outside of a two-story brick house. Lights were on inside. They waited a few minutes and then climbed out of the car and crossed the street.

Crouching under the invisibility cloak, Hermione stared at the house. She could feel Harry looking at her. Her throat was dry, and her mouth seemed to be glued shut.

"Hermione?"

She swallowed.

"What, Harry?'

"Aren't you – er – going to… you know…"

"Of course I am, Harry, I just need a minute!"

Harry was silent and the minutes stretched on. Her father would have turned on the news, like he always did when he got home. Her mother was probably tossing a salad, making pasta, and pouring herself a glass of wine.

Hermione made Harry hide behind a shrub row to take off the invisibility cloak. Then, she crossed the street.

"Hermione!"

Hearing Harry's urgent whisper, she looked back and frowned at him.

"Do you want me to wait out here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow her. She hadn't brought him to Australia to stand in the yard while she faced her parents alone. He joined her on the doorstep a few minutes later. Hermione rang the bell. Muffled voices and footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door. The door opened just enough for the slim figure of her mother fill the space between door and frame.

Hermione froze. She had been ready to offer a polite greeting, but when she saw her mother standing there in her favorite jeans and cozy cardigan, her bushy hair pulled back in its usual neat bun, she could not speak. Harry coughed, and nudged Hermione with his elbow.

"May I help you?" her mother said. Her sharp eyes had caught Harry's not-so-subtle encouragement, and she looked warily at Hermione, waiting for them to explain their presence.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am," said Hermione, "We lost our cat, and I think it's gone around the back of your house. I'm terribly sorry, you're probably at dinner already, but he's not supposed to be out of doors, and he's been known to devastate gardens for the fun of it."

Hermione was not a good liar, but her mother's eyes softened a great deal once she realized that they weren't selling anything. She glanced at her flower beds.

"I see. Of course we'll help you find him. If you wait just a moment, I'll get my husband and his gloves to help us."

"Thank you," said Hermione. Her mother left the door open a crack and walked back into the house, calling for her father.

"Good work, Hermione," Harry said softly.

Her parents came out seconds later, her father carrying his work gloves.

"Lost a cat, have you?" said her father, pleasantly enough, but she knew he was annoyed to have the news interrupted, "what's he look like?"

Hermione quickly described a small, grey kitten. When she finished, he chuckled.

"I hope Crookshanks hasn't mistaken him for a mouse and eaten him!" Hermione tried to look appropriately curious and worried.

"Our cat," her father explained, "enormous, orange, and perpetually ravenous."

"Oh, Wendell, stop it!" Her mother shook her head. "Crookshanks is inside, sleeping, and he wouldn't hurt a fly."

Her father led them around the side of the house.

"So, you're from England, like us," he said conversationally as they walked, her mother following behind them.

"Er – yes," said Hermione.

"Where do you come from? Brother and sister, I take it?"

"Actually, no, just friends, visiting before school starts again. I only just moved here."

Her father glanced back at them, and seemed to communicate something to her mother, who smiled slightly.

"Huh, I didn't know there was anyone new in the neighborhood," he said lightly, but Hermione's heart beat faster. They had reached the back of the house, full of flower beds and a small garden, as Hermione knew it would be. Her parents loved gardening.

"Well, go ahead and call him," said her father. Her mother simply stood with her arms crossed, looking around the yard.

Hermione began calling the imaginary cat and walking about the yard. After a few minutes with no results, her parents and Harry started poking around as well.

"I guess he's not here," Hermione said, wondering how she was going to get from that to, "Hi Mum and Dad, I'm the daughter you don't remember you have. You see, I'm a witch, and I erased your memories so you would be safe, and so you wouldn't get me and my friends killed while we tried to save the world."

Suddenly, an orange blur shot past Harry. The kitty door was still flapping when Crookshanks flopped down in front of Hermione and rolled over her feet, purring loudly. Hermione gasped and jumped back. Crookshanks immediately sat up, and with a meow launched himself at Hermione's chest, giving her no choice but to wrap her arms around him and let him rub his head on her shoulder.

Her parents were staring openly at her now, as was Harry. She laughed nervously.

"I think he likes me. Crookshanks, was it?" She patted his head. She didn't dare try to put him down while his claws were embedded in her shirt.

Her father took a step toward her.

"Okay, boy, let her go."

He expertly unhooked Crookshanks from Hermione's clothing and tossed him back inside the house. Then he stood by the door and looked thoughtfully at Hermione.

"I'm sorry about that, and I hope you find your cat." He walked over to where she and Harry stood and offered his hand. "Good luck, kids." He shook Hermione's hand. He was sending them away already. This was it.

"Actually, sir," she said, but her father interrupted her.

"You know, young lady, you could pass for my wife's sister. The resemblance is uncanny."

Hermione gulped.

"Er- actually" she began.

"Ah, but I'm wasting your time! You've got a kitten to find, best be going! No telling where he might be by now."

He began to usher them around the side of the house. Harry followed him reluctantly. Hermione stopped walking. Her mother stopped beside her.

"Is something wrong, dear?"

Her father turned around.

"I – I… there's something I have to tell you, Mr and Mrs, uh," she realized that she wasn't supposed to know their names, since they hadn't told her. Her father took a step toward her, looking concerned, glancing back and forth between Hermione and her mother.

"The truth is I, uh," said Hermione, trying to slip her wand out of her sleeve, suddenly unable to remember any of the script she had prepared.

Her father stood in front of her, patiently waiting for her to speak. He took her mother's hand. Hermione could see Harry behind them, trying to make eye contact with her. If she didn't speak soon, Harry would. She didn't want Harry to do that.

"Hermione."

She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. It was her father's hand. Stunned, she looked up at him.

"Dad?"

Hermione's mother let out a sob and smothered her in a hug.

"You stupid, stupid, girl," she chocked out.

Hermione was dazed. Her mother's embrace was making it hard to breathe. Her father wrapped his arms around them as well, but was the first to step away.

"How long have you known?" she asked, looking at him, whether trying to determine whether he was holding back tears or anger.

"Three months," he said quietly. He was definitely angry, Hermione decided.

Her mother wiped her face with the back of her hand and dabbed at her eyes.

"Mum, Dad… I can't believe it… how much do you remember?"

"Everything!" said her mother, "I suppose you thought you would just come here and make us remember it all again and it would all be ok? Without giving us the chance to discuss anything with you! You drugged us and then cheerfully informed us that you might die fighting a war!"

Her mother was now hysterical. Telling her parents the truth before she modified their memories might not have been the best idea, but after Hermione had given them a calming draught (which was apparently was more potent for Muggles than for wizards), they had been so compliant that she had told them everything.

So now they knew all about her fears and her doubts about her task, about her crush on Ron, her willingness to die fighting Voldemort, Harry's prophecy, and the danger she had been hiding from them since her first year at Hogwarts. Thinking she might never see them again, she had made the mistake of being completely honest with her parents.

Hermione, Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger went inside. The four of them had very quiet dinner, her parents asking a lot of questions about the war and saying little in response. After dinner, her mother asked where they were staying and offered to drive them to get their things, but Hermione had brought everything they needed in her beaded purse. Harry got the sofa, and Hermione took the guest room. They all went to bed early, but Hermione could hear her parents talking long after they retired to their room across the hall. She waited until she was sure they were asleep and snuck downstairs to talk to Harry. He was still awake, reading a Quidditch magazine by wand-light. She sat down beside him and sighed heavily.

"So… they're angry?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. She fell asleep on the couch while Harry read. Her mother woke her early the next morning.

"Hermione, what are you doing down here?!" she whispered loudly, standing over her, "Are you dating him?"

She pointed to the floor, where Harry slept with a throw pillow under his head. Hermione groaned and jumped off the couch. Her mother followed her into the kitchen.

"_Well?"_

"No, I am not dating Harry! We were just talking last night and I fell asleep on the couch. He should have woken me up."

Her mother was making tea.

"Oh? What were you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Hermione, "Actually, we didn't talk much. I just didn't want to be alone."

Her mother didn't say anything else until the tea was done, and she placed a cup in front of Hermione.

"I'm so happy you're back, Hermione" she said quietly, but her voice shook. Hermione knew she was on the verge of tears. She walked back to the sink, leaned on it, grasping the counter, and looked out the window.

"For over three months, I've wondered every day whether you were dead. I didn't dare contact anyone in Britain because I thought it would put you in danger. I had nightmares that those evil wizards brought your dead body to taunt us before they killed us. I dreamed these things every night for three months, Hermione. I've been through hell wondering if my only daughter was still alive, knowing all the while that she would rather die than give up magic, would rather die than live a normal life with her family. If I had known that your teachers placed so little value on your life, you never would have set foot on that damn train, let alone in a school I can't even see! But I trusted them, McGonagall and Dumbledore. I trusted the man who sent you to hunt a mass murderer! You're a child! A child, Hermione!"

Hermione was now crying too.

"I thought you would understand," she said, "I told you about the prophecy… about Harry… he couldn't go alone…"

"Prophecies!" exclaimed her mother angrily, throwing her hands in the air, "First you ask me to believe in magic, and now prophecies! Do you believe in god now, as well? Why not? If you had asked me before all of this happened what I thought was more likely to exist, wizards, or god, I would have said god!"

Hermione's parents were atheists. Hermione had never understood why they were determined to completely rule out the possibility of a higher power. Before Hermione had known about magic, she had thought she might be able to perform miracles like the saints the Catholic girl that lived two houses down had talked about. For a brief period around age nine, Hermione had been terrified that god would make her work for him and she would have to tell her parents that they were wrong after all.

Her mother took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Right now is not the time for this. I'm sorry I upset you."

Hermione sipped her tea and nodded. Her father came downstairs and sat across from her.

"Good morning, Monica, Hermione," he said wryly, opening the paper.

Hermione tried to smile at him.

"Stop it, Jim," snapped her mother, "it's not funny. What possessed you to use _their_ names, Hermione, I'll never know…"

"I - I guess I didn't want to give you new names," Hermione said, "Because that would mean I didn't think I was coming back."

Monica and Wendell Wilkins were her mother's cousins who lived in America. They were professional clowns. Her mother didn't like them because whenever they came to visit they overstayed their welcome and were always asking for money.

"I happen to like our names, Ellen. You're looking more and more like a Monica these days."

"Humph. In this house, I answer to Ellen, and I refuse to use the name Wendell in reference to anyone with half a brain, _Mr. Wilkins._"

Her father laughed, "Everyone at the office thinks you're crazy, you know, ever since you told them that my nickname is Jim."

Her mother answered him with a short laugh as she sat down, but did not smile.

Her parents later explained that it was their fake names that had helped them recover their memories. Hermione's mother began to feel that she hated her name, but she didn't know why. For months, she had flinched whenever someone called her 'Monica'. Finally, she remembered that she knew a Monica, and eventually it came to her that it was her annoying cousin from America. Two days later, all of her memories were back. It had taken her two weeks to convince her husband of the truth, during which he had tried to take her to a shrink. The return of her father's memories had been triggered by seeing Hermione's mother cradling Crookshanks in her arms by the window. It had been one of his last memories of Hermione.

Harry stayed with the Grangers for a week, and Hermione was grateful for his company while her parents were working during the day. They went sightseeing and spent three days exploring the wizards' shops in Sydney. Australian wizards wore much brighter robes than those in Britain, and it seemed that patterns were currently all the rage down under. It was nice to be away from her parents' house, and to be distracted from her thoughts.

Ellen and Jim, however, were not very gracious hosts to Harry. Hermione knew they wanted to have a real discussion with Hermione, or rather a full-blown argument, but they couldn't do it in front of Harry. Harry was her buffer.

Her father ignored Harry for the most part, but was cordial when forced to acknowledge him. Her mother talked to him more often, but her conversation was laced with thinly-veiled hostility. At the end of the first week, Harry told Hermione that he was leaving. Hermione agreed that it was time for him to go. She could not avoid her parents forever.

Harry left Saturday morning. Her parents waited until Sunday afternoon to confront her. What they said was not what Hermione had expected. They wanted to talk about her plans for the future. Hermione had already told them that she would finish her seventh year at Hogwarts, but she had no real plans after that. Further study, an apprenticeship, perhaps, but she had not yet decided which subjects she would continue, and whether she wanted to teach.

"What do you mean, you haven't decided yet? Hermione, if you had gone to a real school you would already know these things! You would have planned it years ago! Are there no wizard universities?"

Hermione explained that Hogwarts was one of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, and that by the end of her seventh year she would have completed roughly the equivalent of a year or two at university in the Muggle system.

"After that, there are training programs for all kinds of careers, for example, Harry has to go another three years in the auror program after he graduates, and then he'll be guaranteed a job at the ministry."

Hermione didn't mention the fact that Harry was guaranteed a job doing anything he wanted, thanks to saving the world from Voldemort.

"Hermione," her mother said, "This is not about Harry. You don't want to be an auror. How are you going to make a living as a witch?" She laughed a little, "Stand over a cauldron all day, brewing magic potions?"

"Ellen," her father intoned gently, silencing her, "Hermione, what your mother is trying to say is, we are concerned about your future. You have so much promise, such a brilliant mind – such an _academic_ mind – that it seems like it would be wasted by living as a witch."

Hermione felt like she had been slapped. Her parents had always supported her desire to live as a witch and integrate into the magical world.

"Wh- what? Wasted? Dad, I don't understand."

"We think you should apply to some Universities. Think of the opportunities you would have once you graduated!"

"What opportunities? A Muggle degree is about as useless in the wizarding world as a wand would be to you!" Hermione was getting angry now.

"You might not always want to live as a witch," said her mother sharply, "it might become too dangerous. There might come a time when you _have _to live in the real world, and then where will you be? Hermione… you could do so much with your life. You could make history!"

Hermione laughed.

"I've already made history! Have you been listening to what Harry and I said all week? We're so famous we can hardly go out in public!"

Her mother sighed and looked at her father.

"Hermione, in the real world," she noticed Hermione's raised eyebrow and corrected herself, "In _our_ world – you will never accomplish anything. You will not exist. This is the world that matters, the world of the un-magical masses! Where are the wizard scientists, poets, philosophers, and artists? What great things have wizards contributed to human history? Will you ignore the rest of the world like the wizards do? You could do anything you want, anything… things we ordinary humans can only dream of… you could change the world."

Hermione knew that her mother was thinking of her own decision to become a dentist. She had always regretted not studying literature and chasing her dream of becoming a writer. Hermione didn't challenge her mother, she just sighed.

"I've helped save the world already. Isn't that enough?"

That silenced them on the subject for the evening, but the next night her parents asked her to consider a compromise. They didn't want her to cut all ties to Muggle society. They wanted her to go to university, make Muggle friends, and get some distance from the war and the fame that followed her in the magical world. Hermione said she would think about it, but she never really considered it. She could not live as a Muggle. It would be like living every day with one arm tied behind her back and her eyes closed. She had no desire to make a name for herself in the non-magical world. International fame as a witch was more than enough.

The week was filled with long silences. Hermione yearned to be back at Hogwarts. She hated the house in Australia. She hated the way her parents looked at her, the way they watched her. She was a stranger to them. She had never told them the whole truth about her life as a witch. Hermione had felt like a stranger to her parents for years, but now they felt it too. At the end of the second week, Hermione told them that she was going back to London to prepare to return to Hogwarts.

They accepted it without argument, but they were disappointed. They did not understand why Hermione wanted to reject their world completely, and they thought it was foolish to do so. To them, she was not a witch. She was a Muggle who happened to have magical abilities.

Her parents said they would not move back to Britain immediately, but they expected to return by the time Hermione finished at Hogwarts.

"I'll write regularly, I promise," said Hermione, hugging them goodbye.

Her mother rolled her eyes.

"Of course you will. You always write regularly, Hermione. Well, I hope this year will be as uneventful as always, only this time, please let it be the truth!"


	2. Chapter 2: Horatia Bartram

_Now, ideally, I would update this quickly every time... but don't count on it, I make no promises! Life is unpredictable, mine more than ever. Thanks for all the reviews, from old and new readers! _

_~bccaw_

**Chapter Two: Horatia Bartram**

"And one more thing, Minerva,"

Severus paused, frowning at the spot on his desk where he was sure his quill had been, lying on top of an untidy stack of letters.

"Yes, Severus?"

Severus tossed a roll of parchment aside irritably, not bothering to look up as he spoke. He needed to organize his desk.

"Have the house elves clean the sorting hat. It has begun to smell."

"Indeed?" said McGonagall, walking over to the cabinet where the hat was kept. She opened the door slightly, coughed, and slammed it shut again.

"Consider it done, Severus. If that's all…"

"You are dismissed," said Severus, as he quickly cleared off his desk. Fawkes was swooping about the room, landing every now and then on a windowsill. He made a playful snatch at McGonagall's hat as she left.

"Fawkes," Severus intoned, "You have picked a most inconvenient time to show off."

Finally, Severus found the sealed letter that had arrived that morning. It was from Draco.

_Professor Snape, _

_I hope it is not too late to rescind my previous decision to discontinue my education at Hogwarts. I wish to complete my seventh year and earn my NEWTS before I graduate. I realize you must be very busy at this time, so unless I hear otherwise from you, I will assume you have no objection and will see you at the start of term. _

_D. Malfoy_

Severus thought Draco's decision to return to Hogwarts probably had something to do with the fact the Lucius had received a longer sentence in Azkaban than the family had expected, and Draco a much shorter one. Narcissa had only served two months, and she still suffered from the experience. She spent her days locked away in the manor, being tended to by the house elves.

Though they were well-known, active Death Eaters in the second war, Narcissa and Draco had been deemed victims of the Dark Lord by the Wizengot. Narcissa had resisted in whatever small ways she could, and had the memories to prove it. For years, she had tried to keep Draco from following in his father's footsteps, but when Voldemort wanted something, he got it, and he had wanted Draco. Observers at the trial had been brought to tears by Narcissa's memories of pleading with Lucius to find a way to protect Draco. Lucius had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban.

Severus penned a quick response to Draco.

_Your commitment to your education is commendable under such circumstances. I look forward to seeing you in a few days. _

_My best to your mother, _

_S.S._

It would not be easy for Draco, but even the unfriendly halls of Hogwarts would be a welcome change if he was spending his days at the Manor with Narcissa. It would also be better for him to finish his schooling and become a repentant, successful wizard than for him to live off his family's money and avoid all good society.

Severus began to organize his desk, wondering if Narcissa would allow him to pay her a visit. She was angry with him for refusing to lie for Lucius and try to get him a shorter prison sentence. Severus had a soft spot for Narcissa and her son, but he hated Lucius Malfoy. He had been the James Potter of Slytherin house; arrogant, popular, a Quidditch star. They only time he had taken notice of Severus was to criticize him or mock him. He never did it in front of the other houses, since that would violate one of Slytherin's most important codes. In front of other, he had simply ignored Severus.

Severus had threatened Lucius from the beginning, when he came into the school, poor, unkempt, and socially inept, yet knowing more about dark magic than any other pureblood Slytherin first year. Lucius had put Severus under his foot that first year and kept him there until he left Hogwarts. Once, and only once, Severus had heard Narcissa stand up for him.

"What the matter, Lucius? Are you afraid that a second year is smarter than you? Well, you know what, I think he is! Severus Snape is smarter than you!"

After that speech, Lucius had broken up with her for a month. She had stopped eating and had to be sent to the infirmary. When Lucius came to visit her, she had apologized to him. Severus had overheard it because he was in the infirmary recovering from a potions "accident" involving Potter. The next day, Lucius and Narcissa had been a couple once again. It was rumored that their marriage had been arranged from infancy, though Narcissa vehemently denied it. She really loved Lucius, for reasons yet unknown to Severus.

Severus sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. His respite did not last long. It was interrupted a few minutes later by McGonagall's return.

"Severus," she said wearily, waiting for him to open his eyes.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"Horatia Bartram had arrived. I've sent her things to her quarters, but I thought you would like to meet her before you, ah, became too busy."

Severus sat up and straightened his robes.

"Send her in."

McGonagall disappeared, and moments later, a tall witch stood in her place. She was very pale, and wore a light grey robe. If not for her dark hair and red lipstick, she could have been mistaken for a ghost.

"Ms Bartram," he said languidly, "so good to finally meet you. Please, take a seat."

Horatia Bartram smiled and walked gracefully across the room, taking the chair opposite Severus. She seemed to be amused by something.

"Professor Snape. You don't remember me."

Severus had never seen the woman before in his life, having hired her on McGonagall's recommendation without even an interview.

"You taught me Potions," she said, filling the silence. "You were also my head of house."

Severus scowled at her.

"Ms Bartram, I believe you have grossly overestimated my patience. I have neither the time nor inclination to reminisce about your school days. I am aware that you attended Hogwarts. The house you were in is irrelevant to your position."

She laughed.

"Indeed, Professor, I remember your lack of patience quite well. Forgive me, I don't want to waste your time, but I had hoped you would remember me. I confess I allowed you to be misled. I was Horatia Langley."

Her familiar tone irritated Severus. He still did not recognize her, and she had the audacity to act like they were old friends.

"Ah - I see. You neglected to inform me that you were married. Spouses and family are not normally permitted to reside within the castle; however, your husband may stay with you until you are able to find a residence nearby."

Ms Bertram was still amused, it seemed.

"Thank you, Professor, but that will not be necessary. I am not married. Bartram was my mother's maiden name, which I took some years ago."

Severus did not like Horatia Bartram. She was not intimidated by him, which meant she was likely an arrogant fool.

"Remind me, how long ago did you attend Hogwarts, Ms Bartram?"

"We came to Hogwarts in the same year Professor. You were the youngest head of house in 210 years, and I was a first year Slytherin."

"Why, then, did you not complete Auror training until 1995?"

Bartram was caught off guard by the question, and she frowned slightly, no doubt disappointed that Severus had still not remembered her.

"I hadn't planned on becoming an Auror. After I graduated I took some time off. There were things I needed to escape. I traveled," she said, "Australia, France, and Spain. One year in London. After that, three years in Auror training, and I've been at the Ministry ever since."

"And did you gain any useful experience in your travels, Ms Bartram?"

She laughed and gave him an incredulous look.

"Is this an interview, Professor? I was under the impression I already had this job. Forgive me; I should have come in more professional attire."

She was wearing a sheer, delicate summer robe and thong sandals. Her hair fell past her shoulders, loose and untamed.

"Yes, Ms Bartram, this is an interview. It is a pity that you have not come prepared, as you have yet to convince me that I would not be better off letting the first years teach themselves defense."

Horatia Bartram smiled obligingly.

"I graduated top of my class at Hogwarts and consistently had the highest test scores of any Auror in my training program. Professor McGonagall read my reports and seemed to find them impressive. While it is true that I lack teaching experience, I do not think it will be a great an obstacle. I know how to deal with children."

"Do you care to elaborate on that last point?"

"I was the oldest of five children born to irresponsible parents," she said, "I taught the two youngest how to read."

Her smile faded under his impassive scrutiny, and she briefly pressed her lips together in annoyance. Severus continued the interrogation.

"Why did you take this job, Ms Bartram? No other Aurors were interested, not when the Ministry is handing out promotions like sweets. Surely your superior performance would have guaranteed you a higher position in the department."

"I've always wanted to come back to Hogwarts," she said thoughtfully, "I took this job because I thought I would enjoy teaching here, and because I want the experience. How many people can say they've taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? You're right, of course. I could have applied for a promotion. I would have gotten it, but I am not interested in the title, or the power, or even the money. In fact, I may never return to the Ministry."

Severus stood. The light coming from the window behind him cast a shadow over her. She looked up at him without blinking. Her eyes were the same pale grey as her robe. Pureblood eyes, thought Severus, just like the Malfoys. In fact, she exhibited every desired pureblood trait: icy grey eyes, dark hair, and clear, pale skin. Langley was not a pureblood surname, and he'd never heard of any Bartrams either… Severus realized he had been staring at her for some time, the silence stretching on.

"I would advise you to be better prepared for your first classes than you were for this meeting - Professor Bartram."

She stood as he stepped around the desk, and they shook hands.

"I will do my best, Headmaster," she said seriously – too seriously. She was mocking him.

It was then that Severus remembered Horatia Langley. The girl he remembered was nothing like the self-assured, attractive woman who had just left his office. He could not recall her face, just the memory of a gangly teen with her hair constantly in her face. He had once reprimanded her for letting it hang over her cauldron.

Severus did not know why Horatia Bartram was leaving the Ministry, but he did not believe it was because she really thought teaching at Hogwarts was a better opportunity. She seemed to believe teaching would come easily for her. She might soon wish to be back at the Ministry.

With only two days until the students arrived, Severus was too busy to worry about Bartram's motives. No matter the reason, she was here, and he needed a defense teacher for the lower levels. He was still waiting for the Ministry to approve Kingsley Shacklebolt's request for part time leave so that he could teach defense to the upper years. It had been McGonagall's idea, and it was a good one. If Shacklebolt couldn't work something out with his superiors, Severus would teach the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. It was not uncommon for a Hogwarts headmaster to teach the advanced students, especially at times when enrollment was low.

Enrollment was low. Many students were not returning to Hogwarts. Some, especially Slytherins, were seeking education elsewhere. Some were still in hiding with their families. Others, having passed their OWLS, were already seeking employment.

The OWLS would be given twice in the upcoming year, once at the start of term and once at the end as usual. Rising sixth years would sit the OWLS before being placed into the appropriate classes. Students who needed to sit the NEWTS would have to wait until the end of the year. Those who had been at Hogwarts for their seventh year were not required to repeat the classes, though it was strongly recommended that they repeat the curriculum before taking their NEWTS. Muggleborns and others who had fled Hogwarts would have to repeat the year they missed, unless they appealed to their heads of house, who were responsible for the advanced placement of individual students.

Severus had been unpleasantly surprised to receive confirmation of attendance from Potter and Weasley. No doubt they had already been offered their pick of positions from the Ministry and every Quidditch team in Europe. Perhaps Granger had talked them into returning with her. She always had been much more invested in their education than they were.

The last time Severus had seen Hermione, she had been walking down to the school gates with Potter. He had not asked her where she was going, but he assumed she was staying with the Weasleys. Perhaps she had gone to straight to Australia to find her parents. Wherever she was, she was putting her life back together. Soon her time in the infirmary would be a distant memory, but Severus would not soon forget her.

Severus sat down and pulled a scrap of parchment from his desk. It was a list from the heads of house of their nominees for head girl and boy. He had a second list of names from the rest of the faculty and staff; however, there would be no voting. It was Severus' decision to make. Severus had only asked for nominees because of McGonagall. She wanted Potter for head boy and she had harassed Severus constantly about the decision. At last, he had told her it would not be made until the start of term, after the other faculty had presented their own candidates.

Severus had no intention of making Potter head boy, but it was better to stall than to tell Minerva outright. She would be most unhelpful if she was in a snit over Potter, not to mention irritating as hell.

Severus scanned the lists of nominees, starting with the staff nominees. Filch had nominated Mrs. Norris for head girl and written 'none' under the boy's column. Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Ernie Macmillan were Potter's competition, all Gryffindors, of course. Surprisingly, 'Harry Potter' only appeared once on the list, scrawled across the page in Hagrid's hand. Severus turned to the list nominees from the heads of house: Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, Anthony Goldstein and Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, and Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. McGonagall had not nominated Hermione.

When Severus had asked her why, she had looked a bit sheepish.

"Miss Weasley displayed great leadership abilities last year. She would have been my choice for head girl this year, under normal circumstances. Hermione has been through a lot, and if I may speak for her, I believe she would prefer to immerse herself in her studies without the added responsibilities of being head girl. Her obsessive attention to detail and tendency to overachieve would not only drive the prefects mad, it would end with her taking over some of their responsibilities for them."

It was then that Severus realized something about McGonagall. She was not blind to all of her own students' faults – just to Potter's and anyone in his vicinity. She probably got teary-eyed when she imagined the second-generation golden couple as head boy and girl.

McGonagall was still talking about Weasley.

"… no one better prepared for the position. Hannah Abbott, perhaps; she's a good, smart girl, but not a leader. I stand by my choice; Granger would do well, but Weasley would do better. She is well-liked by the other houses and the younger students, thanks to her work on the Quidditch pitch."

"Really, Minerva, I wasn't aware that this was a popularity contest," said Severus.

Severus didn't have much against the Weasley girl, other than her involvement with Potter and her unfortunate relations. She had been the most frequent visitor to Hermione's bedside. She was a good student, and had not caused trouble in his classroom.

But Severus would not choose Ginny Weasley. McGonagall was wrong; Hermione would not want less responsibility, especially not when it came with loss of a much-coveted title. Severus refused to give it to her popular, Quidditch-playing friend. Hermione would be head girl. He owed her that much. He owed her his life.


	3. Chapter 3: Hermione Granger, Head Girl

_Yes, this took longer than expected, due to work and multiple revisions because I just didn't like it very much! Enjoy, review, and get ready for another Snape chapter to follow!_

_~bccaw_**Chapter Three: Hermione Granger, Head Girl **

* * *

"Harry, do you see-"

Hermione's words were drowned out by laughter from a particularly loud compartment they were passing. Hermione stopped peered at the students inside, confirming her suspicions.

Ron was seated next to Padma, his arm slung around her shoulders. His face was red from laughing.

"Come on, Hermione," said Harry curtly, moving quickly past, "the next one's empty."

Just then, Ginny opened the compartment and almost ran into Hermione.

"Hello Hermione," she said. "Sorry, there's no room in here – Dean took the last spot, and Parvati's already sitting on Anthony's lap. I'll, uh, see you at Hogwarts?"

"Sure," said Hermione, "I was going to sit with Harry anyway."

Ginny made no comment, just returned to the compartment, where she sat next to Dean Thomas.

Hermione and Harry took the next compartment and were soon joined by Neville and Luna, who were reading back issues of the _Quibbler_ together, holding Luna's lit wand between them. It was dark in the compartment, thanks to dreary weather, and the unrelenting rain had made Hermione's hair frizzier than ever. She pulled it back into a bun.

Harry was not in the mood to talk, so Hermione pulled out a book a read while he tossed a rubber replica of a snitch around, bouncing it off the wall that separated their compartment from Ginny and Ron's.

"I'm surprised to see you, Harry," said Neville after a while, "Gran said the Ministry was sure to set you up with a job straight away."

Luna had decided to nap against Neville's shoulder, though Hermione could not tell if she was really asleep because she was wearing dark sunglasses with florescent green rims that glowed faintly in the dim light.

"Er – yeah, they did," said Harry. "It was Hermione that convinced me to finish at Hogwarts. I'm still going to go through auror training. Don't know how long I'll last with Snape as headmaster, though."

"At least we won't have him in class," said Neville, "I wonder who he got to teach defense."

"You know," Hermione interrupted without looking up from her book, "he might teach it himself. It says in _Hogwarts: a History _that traditionally, headmasters and headmistresses still teach their subjects after assuming headship."

Harry and Neville were speechless; both wore the same look of horror.

"Brilliant," said Harry. "And here I thought this day couldn't get any worse."

Neville sighed heavily, causing Luna's head to roll off his shoulder. She sat up and seemed to look straight at Harry.

"Snarffalump!" she exclaimed, then yawned and curled up in her seat, using Neville's school robe as a pillow.

"Er-" Harry said, "Is she all right?"

Neville just shrugged.

"That's nothing. When we were in Australia this summer we went for a lovely moonlit walk on the beach. It was twenty minutes before I realized she was sleepwalking. And – er – sleep talking."

A little while later Neville had fallen asleep as well, and Hermione had grown tired of reading her Arithmancy text. She put it back in her bag.

"Dean's over there," said Harry, bouncing the ball against the wall again, "with them."

"I saw," said Hermione neutrally. "We'll probably be seeing a lot more of him this year. I don't think Seamus is coming back."

"Oh..." said Harry, staring at the wall. He threw the ball harder.

"I heard he's opening a Quidditch shop in Diagon alley with his uncle."

"Huh."

Harry threw the ball so hard that it nearly hit him in the face on the way back. He caught it before it smashed into his glasses and held it there. Somebody from the other compartment was banged on the wall.

"Cut it out over there!" came Ron's muffled voice.

Harry was still holding the ball in front of his face, glaring at the wall.

"Harry-"

"Wake me when we're close," he said, pocketing the ball. He lay down with his face to the wall and was soon asleep. Hermione spent the rest of the trip staring out of the window at the rain.

By the time she woke up Harry, Neville, and Luna, the rain had stopped, though thick clouds still covered the sky, making the night blacker than it should have been.

The four of them rode up to the castle together. Harry was still bleary-eyed from his nap on the train. He kept glancing back to where Ginny, Dean, Ron, and Padma followed two carriages behind, looking quite cozy.

"Harry, I don't think-"

"Hermione just - don't say anything. Please."

Neville and Luna pretended not to have heard anything and started talking about the magical properties of powdered newt skin, which Luna claimed could be used to catch tree pixies.

They were soon inside the great hall, scrambling for a places at their respective tables. Hermione chose a seat across from some second year girls. The noise in the great hall grew as the rest of the students filed in. Ginny and Ron sat farther down the table, and the rest of the sixth and seventh years joined them. Ron was seated next to Dean. Ginny sat across from them, beside Parvati, who seemed to be complimenting Ginny's new hairstyle. Ginny smiled and flipped her sleek, straightened hair over her shoulder.

"Wow, she's so pretty," said one of the second-year girls. Hermione glanced over at them. They were not talking about Ginny; a tall witch in deep green robes had just entered with the Professors, walking behind tiny Professor Flitwick. She was very beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose chignon, in sculpted waves that shone the candlelight, which Hermione suspected was the result of a subtle scintillating charm.

"She must be the new DADA professor," she said to Harry.

"I don't think so," said Harry.

"Why not? A woman can't teach defense?" asked Hermione, offended by Harry's dismissive tone of voice.

"That's not what I meant, Hermione. Look."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was now seated at the high table as well, right beside the witch in question.

"What else would Shacklebolt teach? She's probably Muggle Studies."

Hermione made a noncommittal noise and continued watching the high table. Shacklebolt and the witch in green seemed to know one another, or at any rate Shacklebolt looked very much like he wanted to get to know her.

"Where's Snape?" Harry asked, just seconds before Professor Snape made his entrance, closing the door behind him firmly so that the sound echoed through the hall. It was suddenly much quieter. All eyes were on the headmaster, and a pervasive feeling of awe, fear, and curiosity was in the air, or so Hermione imagined. She only felt vaguely uncomfortable, as if she were the only one not under the spell.

Professor Snape slowly made his way to his place at the table. He did not look as dour as he normally did at the start of term feast, but his expression was unreadable. He swept his robes back dramatically and sat down, signaling McGonagall to bring the first-years in.

After the usual song and ceremony, five trembling first-years joined the Gryffindor table. McGonagall dropped the sorting hat on the head of "Warscobbins, Eddy," a tiny freckled girl with bouncy red ringlets who was sorted into Gryffindor as well.

Professor Snape stood solemnly and led the applause after the sorting, his sharp black eyes moving from table to table, where Hogwarts' newest members now sat looking relieved and famished. Hermione down at her hands when he turned his gaze to Gryffindor. Even though she knew he was just memorizing the faces of the first years a few seats away, she didn't want to be caught staring. She did not know who she would see looking back at her. Would it be the Headmaster or the man who had read by her bedside?

"Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and to the rest of you, welcome back. In the spirit of years past, we will forgo the announcements until after our meal."

He raised his hands and the feast appeared on the tables in all its usual mouth-watering glory. Hermione filled her plate with roast and carrots, her stomach grumbling with renewed hunger. Harry piled food onto his plate absently. His attention was still focused on a certain red-haired girl a few seats away.

"Harry," Hermione said, elbowing him.

"What?" Harry stopped and looked stupidly at the small mountain of potatoes he had spooned onto his plate.

"Hungry, are you?" she asked.

"Er- yeah, really hungry," said Harry, dropping the serving spoon and picking up his fork.

Harry was not in the best of moods, which was to be expected, but Hermione was tired of trying to distract him from Ginny and Ron.

"So, Neville," she said pleasantly, leaning around Harry, who was hunched over his plate, "which NEWTS are you taking?"

Neville leaned around Harry as well, holding a roll in his hand, which began to drip butter onto his sleeve as he spoke.

"Herbology, of course, Charms, Defense, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic."

"Wow, Neville… that's going to be a lot of work. And… History of Magic?"

Neville shrugged.

"I figure it doesn't hurt to try for an extra NEWT or two. I've always liked magical history. I mean, Binns is dreadful, but it's my second best subject."

Hermione found it hard to believe that anyone would bother with a History of Magic NEWT, even if they loved the subject. Binns didn't teach anything that couldn't be found with some independent research in the library.

"I didn't realize you had continued Care of Magical Creatures as well," she said. In fact, she had not heard of anyone continuing the subject beyond fifth year.

"Oh, well, I didn't take it sixth year," said Neville, "but I've been thinking I might like to teach, and you really need at least four NEWTS for that. Besides, there's a lot in Care of Magical Creatures that overlaps with Herbology, and it's actually sort of fascinating at times…"

Neville was watching Hermione for some sign of approval. She had been trying to imagine just how dangerous a NEWT-level class with Hagrid would be; hatching dragons in the Forbidden Forrest, perhaps, or babysitting Grawp. She quickly arranged her face into what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"That sounds like a good plan, Neville. Hagrid will be happy to have you. I don't think he ever really forgave us for dropping his subject."

"Yeah," Neville agreed, "And Luna's taking it with me. I think we might be the only ones."

Hermione intended to continue with Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions; more classes than any other student in her year. Harry would have Charms, Defense, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions; all the required NEWTS for the auror program. Ron and Ginny would be in all of Harry's classes, since they also wanted to enter the auror program. Hermione doubted whether either of them would actually become aurors. The last she had heard, both of them wanted to play professional Quidditch, and Ron planned to help George run the joke shop after he graduated.

Once the meal was over, Professor Snape made the usual announcements about curfew and the Forbidden Forrest in such a grave manner that the first years looked like they would afraid to step foot outside of the castle walls for at least a few weeks.

"And now, a few introductions," said Snape. "We very fortunate to have Kingsley Shacklebolt with us this evening. He will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to the fifth, sixth, and seventh years, in addition to his work at the Ministry. We also welcome Horatia Bartram, a former auror, who will fill in for the rest of the defense classes. Muggle studies will be taught by Margaret White…"

A group of second-year Hufflepuffs had begun whispering to one another. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at them and they quieted.

"…who could not be here this evening, but will join us next week. For now, let us welcome Professors Shacklebolt and Bartram."

The name Margaret White sounded familiar to Hermione, but even her encyclopedic memory was drawing a blank. She thought it strange that Professor Snape had not said anything about her. Hermione tried not to think about Professor Burbage.

"Schedules will be handed out at breakfast in the morning. First years will report to their prefects a half hour before breakfast for a tour of the school. Which brings us to the next order of business. As some of you are undoubtedly already aware, prefects have not yet been announced."

Snape looked from table to table again.

"When your name is called, come to the front to collect your badges. I will then announce the names of the head boy and girl for the year."

Hermione had not known that prefects were yet unannounced. She had been disappointed when she had not received a prefect's badge before the start of term, but had reasoned that it would not be fair to the younger students if those repeating a year had gotten to keep their prefect spots.

Ginny was called up to collect a prefect's badge. Neither Ron nor Hermione was made a prefect again; however, Neville was, and so was Hannah Abbott, and they were repeating the seventh year. Hermione's heart beat faster. There was still a chance... she held her breath and tried not to tap her foot impatiently while waiting for the final announcement.

Snape waited for the Slytherin prefects, who had been called last, to return to their seats.

"This year's head boy and girl will be... Mr Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, and Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor."

There was applause as the two made their way to the front to collect their badges from Professor McGonagall. Grinning at one another, they reverently pinned their prizes to the front of their robes. Professor Snape clapped along with the students, staring at Hermione so intensely that he might have been trying to hear her thoughts.

_Thank you, _she thought in his direction.

He probably wouldn't hear it. She was too distracted by the noise and her own excitement to think clearly.

But then he blinked once at her and looked away, turning his attention back to the students, who, having given Ernie and Hermione their due congratulations, were already beginning to talk and laugh and fidget in their seats.

"A few more moments of you time," Snape intoned, waiting for the chatter to die down. "First years will follow the prefects to your respective dormitories. No students are to be in the halls after dinner this evening. Use the time to unpack and prepare for your first day of classes."

Professor Snape raised his hands again, in a manner very reminiscent of Dumbledore.

"You are dismissed."

The chatter commenced once again, now punctuated by the scraping of benches.

"Congratulations Hermione," said Harry quietly. They walked slowly out of the hall, hanging back from the rest of the seventh years. Neville was a few steps ahead of them.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, touching her badge lightly. "You're not upset are you? I mean, about never getting to be a prefect?"

Harry gave a short laugh.

"No. I don't think I'd like being a prefect this year anyway."

Hermione followed his gaze to the back of Ginny's head.

"I think Ron's angry though, because Neville's a prefect and he's not," said Harry.

Hermione agreed with him. Not that Ron ever paid much attention to Neville, but he had conspicuously looked the other way when Ginny said, "Well done, Neville, this year will be so much easier for us, won't it?"

Hermione felt sorry for Neville, as she often had over the years. It had always been Hermione's opinion that Neville had a secret crush on Ginny. Most of the guys at school had crushes on Ginny, but Neville probably loved her by now. There had been one time, in the library, when Hermione had caught him watching her from behind a bookshelf with an expression that could only have been described as longing.

"Hermione, look at Malfoy."

Harry nudged her arm, and she followed his gaze. Draco Malfoy was standing apart from the rest of his house, watching the first years follow Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott out of the Great Hall. There were dark circles under his eyes. His thin, angular face looked even thinner than usual, and his hair was limp and dull.

"He looks bad," she remarked, "really bad."

"Yeah," said Harry, "guess that's what Azkaban does to a person. I saw him on the train earlier, sitting in an empty compartment."

"Hmm, perhaps he's finally had enough of Pansy," said Hermione, watching the Slytherin girl sidle up to her unofficial boyfriend of four years. Draco jumped when she touched his arm, and looked quite irritated when he saw who it was. Pansy whispered something slyly into his ear and started to massage his shoulders, her long nails digging possessively into his school robe. Draco just scowled and shrugged away from her.

"I can't believe she had the nerve to come back here," Hermione said, enjoying the look of shock on Pansy's face as Draco walked away.

Hermione spent the evening just as Professor Snape had suggested, unpacking her things and looking through the texts for her classes. Harry had not stayed long in the common room before heading to the dormitory. After he left, Hermione exchanged pleasantries with Ginny, who was being shadowed by Parvati. Lavender hung around in a cloud of perfume that reminded Hermione of Professor Trelawney. It was apparent that she did not like sharing her best friend with Ginny. Ginny seemed quickly grew tired of them, and kept trying to pull Hermione into the conversation, while at the same time Lavender tried to keep her out of it.

Parvati talked incessantly about her boyfriend, Anthony Goldstein, a tall, curly-haired Ravenclaw who didn't talk much, unless it was to make some sudden, unexpected witty remark. He had always been known as the kid who threw up on Filch's boots during his first detention. After fifth year his spots had cleared up, and he had grown into his gangly appendages, earning him a place on Lavender's "Hogwart's Hottest" list.

Lavender, despite having many admirers, was not dating anyone at Hogwarts. She had met a Quidditch player at a pub in London over the summer, and was interested in no one else.

"Breck Kelly. Beater for the Ballycastle Bat's. He's ad-DOR-able. We went out three nights in a row before he had to leave for training."

"Nice," said Ginny dispassionately, "are you sure he hasn't already got a girlfriend, or three?"

"Huh, no. Well, he did. But they broke up. She left him for his best mate, apparently."

"Oh, how awful," said Parvati.

"And his friend wasn't even attractive! He showed me a picture of them. _She _was gorgeous, of course, but then, Breck says she's had some work done... transfiguration of the nose..."

Hermione slipped out without waiting to hear Lavender's critique of the former girlfriend's every feature.

The head girl's room was modest in size and furnished almost as sparsely as the dormitories, with a standard gold-and-crimson draped four poster bed and a small closet. She had her own gilt-edged full-length mirror that hung on the wall and her own desk with a crimson-cushioned chair. There were two doors on opposite walls, one of which opened to the Gryffindor common room, and the other into the hall just outside the Fat Lady's portrait. Outside each door there was a tiny sitting room with a settee, an arm chair, and a coffee table.

Not only were the sitting rooms were identical; they were, in fact, the same room. Hermione had discovered it when she had stayed in the head girl's room over the summer. She had put a book on the table in the first room and opened the door to the second to find it laying on the table where she had left it. At the time, she had been too worried about Professor Snape to wonder about the mechanics of such a charm.

Curious, Hermione propped open the door that led the hall and went to pull the other one open. She found herself looking directly into the common room. Romilda Vane stared back at Hermione, startled by her sudden appearance in the doorway.

"Er – sorry," Hermione said quickly and shut the door again. _What an inconvenient set-up_, she thought. She assumed the little room was where she was to meet with students, should they want to talk to her privately, but why must it be in two places instead of one? Perhaps it was just one of Hogwart's strange quirks, or perhaps some previous faculty member with a talent for charms had wanted to show off.

Hermione climbed into bed, feeling unsettled, a feeling that had been growing since seeing Professor Snape again - Professor Snape, who only a few weeks earlier had tried to convince her to leave him lying in the infirmary like a living statue and get on with her life. Professor Snape, with whom she had shared a mysterious connection that had forced him to stay by her side until the curse was able to take him instead of Hermione. Professor Snape, who she had inexplicably been able to save with a kiss.

Nobody knew about the kiss, of course, but the rumors about the Professor and herself had never completely died. Lavender had implied earlier that Hermione was only head girl because of her 'special' relationship with the headmaster. Hermione had to wonder if there was some truth to the accusation. Professor Snape had not had a very high opinion of her before.

There was no romantic relationship, of course. The idea that Professor Snape might be attracted to her was laughable. The kiss had been mortifying on her part, but thankfully there was no question of him thinking she had developed romantic feelings for him. He could read her mind, and he knew that she had told the truth when she said she had not meant to do it.

They were not really friends either. She doubted that he even remembered how to have friends after being a spy and a double agent for so long. Still, they were something... something other than student and teacher, and it was something that she was not sure she could forget.


	4. Chapter 4: Margaret White

_I know this is inexcusably late. Life is... hectic. _

_I wanted this chapter to be longer, but after a long, drawn out battle, I admitted defeat and let it be. Thanks to those who read and review, I have not forgotten you! Or your pleas for more updates!_

_bccaw_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Margaret White**

Severus watched the students leave the Great Hall, the heads of house following impatiently. Everyone was anxious to spend a few hours in relaxation before the term began the next day.

Hermione and Potter hung back from their housemates. It seemed that Potter had not managed to placate the Weasley girl, and Hermione had not forgiven the brother.

Draco was not looking well. He was sullen and drawn, had eaten little, and had not spoken to anyone at his table during the meal. Severus watched Draco escape Pansy Parkinson for the third time that evening. The girl was certainly persistent in the face of rejection.

Draco stopped short of leaving the hall and stood watching the students file by, particularly Potter, who was too busy whispering to Hermione to notice that he was being watched.

"Good evening, Professor."

Horatia Bartram's strode past him and looked over her shoulder, waiting for a response.

Severus simply gave her a nod.

"Professor Bartram."

She looked amused again, what must be a constant state of mind for her. After a moment's consideration, probably spent deciding whether she should try to force conversation on him, she dropped her eyes to the steps in front of her, and floated down them, her elegant green robes rippling after her.

It had not escaped Severus' notice that Bartram was beautiful, and he was certainly not the only one who thought so. Shacklebolt had worked all evening to impress her with stories from his early days as an Auror, and even Flitwick had been so nervous in her presence that he had accidentally tipped his goblet into his own lap when she spoke to him.

The hall was soon empty, and Severus was alone in sudden silence. His mind remarkably clear and untroubled, his thoughts drifted to Hermione. She was pleased to be head girl. He had almost begun to believe Minerva when she insisted that Hermione would only find it a burden, but there was no mistaking the happiness she had felt upon receiving her badge. She had never been good at keeping her emotions to herself, and even if he had not been able to sense them, they had been written plainly on her face.

Severus slept well that night, better than he had in the weeks leading up to the start of term. Many of the students were still afraid of him, which was not entirely undesirable. He had read fear, awe, and curiosity in their minds anytime he had happened to look at one of them longer than a second of two. Children were often full of unchecked emotion, and fear was one of the easiest to read in their minds.

Severus spent a few quiet hours in his office reading. Fawkes liked having company in the evening, and he when he was not dozing he watched Severus intently, trilling every now and then to make sure he had not been forgotten.

An owl arrived that evening with a letter from Margaret White, a tiny spotted one that looked like he had been caught in a storm.

_Professor Snape, _

_You may anticipate my arrival at Hogwarts early Friday morning. My mother is happy to be back at the estate after all these years and is doing very well. Thank you for understanding our situation, but a week of silence and solitude is more than enough. These walls and rooms do not comfort me as they do my mother; I look forward to escaping to Hogwarts. _

_I must thank you once more for insisting that I take the Muggle Studies position. Perhaps without intending to, you have given me what I most needed; a place in the magical world. _

_M. White_

Severus read the note quickly and set it aside, pleased that she would arrive before Monday. He would tell Minerva in the morning; she was quite anxious to meet Professor White.

The students were too young to know the name Margaret White. Margaret's father, Bernard, and her aunt, Barda, had been advocates of Muggle-born rights in the early 1900's, during a period of transition away from traditional law that began in 1890 under Minister of Magic Augustana Lott.

The Whites had used their wealth and social influence to fight for equal rights for half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Barda was known as an eccentric, brash witch with a weakness for younger wizards, while her brother Bernard had been a brooding man of few words who preferred to stay out of society. Bernard contributed a few articles to the cause, calling for the end of pure-blood supremacy, which he predicted would devastate the wizarding world and significantly dilute magical power if left unchecked.

Margaret had been only twenty-one years old when her father and aunt were killed by Death Eaters. It had happened a year after a reporter for the _Hag Hill Herald_ had published a letter, begging former Muggle-born activists to speak out once again against the purists. The fool had named the Whites and a few other old influential figures, quoting them extensively and even including an old portrait of the White family. He praised them for overcoming the pure-blood ideals of their ancestors and risking their reputation for equality.

They had been Voldemort's first targets, and the first murders openly claimed by Death Eaters during the Dark Lord's first rise to power. Their deaths had accomplished exactly what was intended, silencing dissenters and supporters of Muggle-borns and half-bloods. There had been no public outrage over their murders, even though they were widely publicized.

Margaret and her mother, Miranda, disappeared. Some said they had been killed or captured, but the general consensus was that they had gone into hiding and were living as Muggles. After that, acts of resistance were often attributed to M. White, and the name was sometimes written in blood-red letters on streets and buildings in the early seventies as a response to the atrocities committed by Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Sometime after Voldemort's final defeat, Miranda and Margaret had slipped quietly back into the wizarding world. The _Prophet _ran a brief, remarkably reserved and respectful article on the family, in which it was reported that the Whites had lived as Muggles for thirty years.

Severus had been in the process of securing a teacher for the empty Muggle Studies post, and was thoroughly unimpressed by the three applicants, which included a retired wizard who currently worked as a janitor at a Muggle school, a young half-blood witch whose grammar was horrendous, and Filch, who reckoned he knew well enough what it was like to be a Muggle, since he could not do magic either.

He had written to Margaret White to inform her of the position.

At first she had refused to consider it, saying that it was too soon for her to leave her mother. Severus had urged her to meet for an interview regardless. Three days later she had accepted the position, on the condition that he would not publicize her acceptance until the start of term.

"Not that I think I'll be in danger," she had said when they met for an interview, "but you say there are still many children of parents with pure-blood loyalties at Hogwarts, and I don't want to be the cause of dropping enrollment. Their parents may decided to send them to a more... hm, traditional school."

"Allow me to worry about enrollments, Ms White. Have you considered that your presence might have the reverse effect?"

Margaret White was a petite, wiry woman in her early fifties, with sun-bleached hair that suggested that she had spent her years in exile on a beach. Though lightly lined, her face carried her age well, tanned skin stretching tight over the apples of her cheeks and creasing gently at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. But she had not been smiling then.

"I have considered it, Professor, and that's the other reason for my terms. I don't want to be your celebrity. There will be quite enough of that with Harry Potter still in attendance. I won't have you parading me to the press to bolster your reputation, either. You want me to teach, and that's all I will be doing, quietly, and without fanfare. I take after my father in that respect."

Severus had known then that he and Margaret White were going to get along.

White was enthusiastic about teaching, and after living among Muggles for most of her life, she was the most qualified witch Hogwarts had ever had in the position. When he told her this, she laughed and replied, "Well, I'm certainly not qualified for anything else!"

With her no-nonsense attitude, it was inevitable that she and Minerva would become close friends. It was perhaps Severus' greatest reservation about hiring her.

The first day of class went smoothly. Severus found himself pacing the halls, directing errant first years to the correct staircases and corridors, or else simply frightening them into the nearest classroom with his presence.

OWL examinations would take place on Wednesday, after which class sizes would shift dramatically. Students and teachers were anxious. At the same time, the students knew they would not be given much work until everything was sorted out. A few days without homework was as good as a holiday, and meant that it was only a matter of time before the troublemakers wrecked their havoc in the halls. Severus patrolled constantly.

Later in the afternoon, during classes, Severus took his ramblings outdoors. He walked around the lake, stopping in familiar spots and avoiding those associated with less pleasant memories.

As he wound his way under the branches of a large willow, he was startled by a splash.

Something broke the surface of the lake several meters from the shore, and when he looked up he saw a finned tail disappear in spray of water.

The merpeople did not usually come to the surface, and never when there was a chance of being seen. Severus sat down on a large tree root, partially hidden by a low-hanging branch, and waited.

Soon there was another splash, and a slim body twisted through the water just below the surface. The tail flicked above the water again.

An answering ripple rose up under the water a few feet from the first, and another tail slapped the surface. Then the water stilled. Severus stared at the lake until his eyes hurt from the sun reflecting on the water.

Something burst out of the water with a screech. The something was actually two merpeople, male and female, arms flailing, pulling at one another, seaweed hair tangled around their bodies. They sank under the water again, making odd hissing and sighing noises.

The mercouple chased one another around the lake, breaking through the water with a few acrobatics and waved their tails tauntingly at one another. They emerged together a second time, this time in an embrace, kissing noisily – slurping really - and slapping their hands on their partner's upper arms and shoulders, splashing one another with water as their greyish skin began to dry out quickly in the sun.

Severus began to feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, and started to creep off of his seat, moving farther back underneath the willow's branches in an attempt to leave without being seen. Suddenly, the male screeched and slid out of the female's embrace, as if he had been pulled underwater by the tail - which turned out to be exactly what had happened. An older merwoman emerged, clicking her tongue angrily. She grabbed the younger female by her tangled green hair and yanked her under the water. The surface stilled once more.

The mercouple must have been sufficiently chastised because they did not come back to the surface again. Severus crept out from under the willow and brushed a few leaves off of his robe before making his way back to the castle.

Passing the Defense classroom on the way to his office, Severus noticed that the door was open.

"Ban-shee," said the class in near-unison. Judging from the voices they were first years. Severus peeked into the classroom.

"Very good!"

Bartram smiled encouragingly, if not a bit nervously, at her students.

"And what does a banshee look like?"

This was met with a half-dozen mumbled answers and a few raised hands.

"Like a woman!"

"Yes, that's right, Miss Tiller."

A plump blond boy raised his hand higher, nearly falling out of his chair in an effort to be noticed.

"Ah... Mr Frank, what else?"

"They have long hair an' if you don't kill 'em before they scream... then you're dead!"

"Exactly. A banshee's scream is fatal. Does anybody know how to kill a banshee?"

Three girls were whispering in the back corner of the classroom, and the Ravenclaw half of the class was on the verge of napping.

"Cut off it's head," a Ravenclaw boy in the first row offered tiredly, without raising his hand.

"Almost correct, Mr. Dove. You must break its neck. Decapitation would be one way to do it, but too risky. A banshee's body and skin is as tough as steel and resistant to magic. It would kill you with its scream before you could give it more than a scratch."

The girls had stopped whispering and the Ravenclaws sat up straighter in their seats.

Bartram began walking through the aisles between the desks.

"A banshee's weakness is its neck. Banshee's do not waste time with a physical fight when they sense magic. They will scream as a first defense. However, when a banshee screams it must close its eyes. That is when you would attack, breaking its neck before you are killed by its scream. Can anybody think of a spell that you would use to break a banshee's neck?"

Severus crept away. Bartram seemed to be doing well with the first years, but first years were easy to impress. He would give her a day or two to get used to the classroom before he officially observed her.

Severus strolled through the corridors, his thoughts returning to his first year of teaching. It had been hellish. His reputation had preceded him into the classroom, where the words "greasy git" had been whispered between snickers on more than one occasion.

After he had been revealed as a Death Eater and a spy in his second year at Hogwarts, his job had become much easier. Fear and intimidation had come naturally to him after that.

"Excuse me, Professor."

Hermione stood in front of him holding a stack of books in her arms, a quill sticking out of her hair at an odd angle. She appeared to be waiting for permission to speak.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

She moved the books to one arm, where they wobbled in a delicate balance as she used the other hand to search the pockets of her school robes.

"Sorry... sir... I have a note... Professor Vector sent me to the library for these... here."

She handed him a scrap of parchment. Severus glanced at it.

"Very well, Miss Granger."

Hermione stuffed the paper back into her pocket and clutched the books to her chest, shifting her weight to the other foot.

"Uh, Professor..."

She looked nervous, uncomfortable, and uncertain. Perhaps she was going to thank him for the head girl spot again, which would not only be unnecessary, but inappropriate. It had not been a favor, and he hoped she did not see it as such. She deserved to be head girl.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face.

"Ah, no... no, sir. It's just... I really should get back to class."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. You are free to go."

Hermione looked down at the floor, smiling faintly.

"Professor, you're standing in front of the door."

After a few seconds of undignified silence on his part, Severus moved aside.

"Forgive me, I was not aware that Professor Vector used this room."

Hermione smiled openly now.

"Just for the seventh years," she said. "So that we can come work on our projects at any time of the day."

She walked up to the door, shifting the pile of books in her arms again. Severus pointed his wand at the door, which clicked softly and opened a few inches.

"Make use of your satchel next time, Miss Granger. There are fines for damaged books."

He turned away and continued down the corridor.

Margaret White arrived that Friday, just before breakfast. The general lack of enthusiasm and curiosity over her presence was further proof that most of the students did not know who she was.

Professor White was received by the faculty with much anticipation. As he had predicted, she and Minerva took an immediate liking to one another.


	5. Chapter 5: Hermione in Hiding

**Chapter Five: Hermione in Hiding**

"Harry, that's her! That's Margaret White!"

Harry glanced at the professors' table, then back at Hermione.

"Yeah, must be," he said. He was unimpressed. Unlike Hermione, Harry had not spent two hours in the library trying to figure out just who the new professor was.

"Harry, her father and her aunt were Muggle-born rights activists. They were murdered by Voldemort in 1968. She's the daughter of an original equal rights activist!"

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Professor White again.

"That's really interesting, Hermione. I bet you wish you hadn't given up Muggle Studies, don't you?"

He was grinning; he knew her too well.

"Of course I do! It's amazing that she's here at Hogwarts. She's been in hiding ever since the murders. I wonder how Professor Snape convinced her to take the position."

"Blackmail, probably," said Harry with a shrug, "If she was hiding from Voldemort, Snape probably knows everything about her."

Hermione sighed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. He wouldn't threaten her, and besides, it doesn't look like she's afraid of him at all."

Professor White was seated next to Professor Snape and was engaged in conversation with Professor McGonagall, who sat on Snape's other side.

"Maybe she would let me sit in on her classes without credit," Hermione said. "I wonder why the _Prophet _hasn't interviewed her yet. Maybe she doesn't like to talk about what happened..."

"Hermione, eat. And stop staring at Professor White."

Hermione had actually been staring at Professor Snape, who was trying to finish his meal while the women on either side of him chatted across his plate.

"Wish me luck, today," said Harry, "Quidditch tryouts. I swear, if Ron messes up this time, I'll replace him with a third year. I hear Greg Early is really good."

Harry was Quidditch captain again. Hermione knew that Ginny had hoped she would be captain her final year. In fact, she probably wanted it more than she had wanted to be head girl. Harry was in for a difficult season.

"What about Ginny?"

"What about her?"

"Has she said anything about you being captain?"

"No."

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said, as they got up from the table. She would watch the tryouts later and give Harry some support from the stands.

"Thanks," he said, and hurried off toward the Quidditch pitch, even though tryouts would not start for an hour.

Hermione spent the hour studying. It was only the first week of class, but she was determined not to get behind on her work. Her Arithmancy project was particularly ambitious, and it was not her best subject. Hermione was the only Gryffindor in the NEWT-level Arithmancy class. The rest were Ravenclaws who were all quiet, studious, and fiercely competitive.

Each student would have their own spacious desk, chalkboard, set of Arithmancy instruments, miniature book shelf, and three enormous rolls of parchment. Professor Vector had already interviewed each of them about their initial project proposals and allowed them to organize their areas to their liking.

During the first class, Professor Vector had sent her to the library with a list of books that would be kept in the classroom for the semester. Not realizing how long the list was, Hermione had returned with two armfuls of books held strategically in balance against her body, only to find Professor Snape blocking the door to the classroom, frowning.

Hermione blushed upon seeing him alone for the first time since the "incident in the infirmary" (as she liked to think of it).

After reading Professor Vector's note, Snape stood staring at her. Her heart beat faster, heat rising to her face again as she wondered what he was going to say next.

Thankfully, it had not taken her long to realize that he was just waiting for her to walk past him, as the regular Arithmancy classroom was two doors down the corridor.

His face had shown a hint of surprise when she told him that he was blocking her entrance to the classroom.

"Forgive me" he had said, stepping courteously aside. She had half expected him to reprimand her for wasting time out of class by dallying in the hall, but it never came. Instead, he had helped her with the door.

Smiling briefly at the memory, Hermione quickly immersed herself in her Runes text and nearly missed the Quidditch tryouts. She slid into her seat in the stands just as Harry called the first group of second and third years.

"Hermione!"

Hermione was startled to see Ernie Macmillan approach and take a seat beside her in the stands.

"Er, hi Ernie," she said, frowning, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he said. "You were walking so fast."

Hermione noticed that he was a little out of breath. She gasped.

"Oh! I didn't miss our meeting, did I? I thought we had rescheduled for 9 o'clock-"

Hermione began to reach into her bag for her organizer, where she was certain she had crossed out "7:00 meeting head girl/boy with Ernie" and written "9:00" instead.

"That's right," said Ernie, "we did. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Do you think we could make it tomorrow?"

Hermione flipped open the organizer.

"Sure, Ernie. Is something the matter?"

He had been staring at some distant point beyond Hermione's left ear. He glanced at her.

"Oh no, nothing at all. I'm in the middle of a - project - this evening, and it's going rather, uh, well, so I'd like to just keep working while the inspiration is there. You understand."

He looked out at the pitch while he spoke, but did not seem to be watching the tryouts.

"Okay," said Hermione, pulling out a quill, "we can meet tomorrow. What time would be best? At lunch?"

"Sure," said Ernie, "after lunch would be fine."

Hermione's scratched out the meeting for that evening. Her quill hovered over the page.

"12 o'clock?"

Ernie frowned.

"Perfect. That would be perfect."

"Okay," said Hermione, "12 o'clock, at lunch, it is. I'll see you then."

"Great. Thanks, Hermione."

Ernie glanced at her again and stood up.

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye Ernie."

Hermione was left to wonder what was wrong with Ernie as she watched the rest of the tryouts. Ron did not do as well as he should have, and Ginny was more aggressive than usual. Thankfully, there were no fights or red-faced shouting matches.

After waving goodbye to Harry, Hermione left to change and clean up. She went to her room, ready for a bath and some reading before bed.

The next morning, Hermione was privy to the latest gossip at breakfast. Harry was late, and even though she tried to ignore Lavender's chatter, it was impossible not to overhear that Ernie Macmillan and Gretchen Hancock had broken up the night before.

"He was crying," said Lavender. "And Ernie Macmillan is not attractive under normal circumstances. He looked so ridiculous, I had to turn the corner so he wouldn't see me laughing."

Hermione frowned at her plate. No wonder Ernie had been acting strangely the night before. It was then that Hermione glanced up to see Ernie walk past the table.

"God, Lavender, you are the most shallow person I've ever met – have a heart!" Hermione huffed, and left.

She passed Harry on her way out.

"Er – Hermione – hello. You're leaving already? I'm only ten minutes late!"

"Sorry, Harry! I – uh – forgot my books. See you later."

Hermione caught up with Ernie on the staircase.

"Ernie!"

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

"I heard about you and Gretchen," said Hermione, "Are you going to be okay?"

Ernie sighed and continued walking up the stairs.

"Yep."

"Ernie, wait -"

Hermione hurried up to where Ernie stood.

"I hope you didn't think I was talking about you... you know, I just happened to sit across from Laven-"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Ernie, who had been staring at a spot on the floor, "I didn't think that – I know you wouldn't ever – you know – I... have to go. Er, bye."

Hermione watched him go, still angry with Lavender – perhaps inexplicably so. She hardly knew Ernie Macmillan. She simply could not stand the sight or sound of Lavender, who had obviously meant for Ernie to hear her comment. She had done the same thing to Hermione too many times to count over the years.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione jumped at the sound of her name. It was Draco Malfoy, coming down the stairs toward her.

"Hello, Draco," she said, as neutrally as she could manage. He stared at her as if he had forgotten what he wanted to say.

"I want to talk to you," he said at last.

Hermione stared back at him.

"Okay."

"Alone."

Hermione felt a small, icy warning well up in her stomach.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Now."

"Actually, I can't, I have to meet someone before class. Sorry."

Hermione turned around, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a jog. She headed for the Great Hall, but thought better of it, and darted into an empty classroom as she turned the corner.

Standing behind the door, she heard Draco approach.

"Draco."

Professor Snape was out there as well.

"Yes, Professor?"

"You do not look well, Draco. Have you been using a sleeping potion?"

Silence stretched on in the hall, mere feet from where Hermione hid.

"No, Professor Snape," mumbled Draco.

"How is your mother?"

More silence.

"She is... fine. We are both fine, sir."

"I see. Very well, Draco. I hope to see you excel this year, and after you leave Hogwarts."

"Yes, sir."

The two parted ways, and Hermione let out a breath in relief. She waited a few minutes before making her escape.

"Ms. Granger, what purpose have you in that empty classroom?"

Hermione closed her eyes, and willed her mind to be calm. She turned to face Professor Snape.

"No purpose at all, it seems," she replied, "I thought I saw a first-year walk in, and assumed he was lost. Perhaps it was a ghost playing tricks on me – no one is there."

He was not fazed.

"Ah. You might as well be herding cats, Ms. Granger. Let them find their own way, or face the consequences. No matter what, some will take to exploring the darkest corners of the castle in the middle of the night just to spite you."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"I'll keep that in mind."


	6. Chapter 6: A Few Observations

**Chapter Six: A Few Observations**

Severus disliked first-years, a sentiment which would not come as a surprise to anyone, and one that he could not help feeling strongly as he sat at the back of Horatia Bartram's classroom.

"Professor Bartram!"

A small hand waved in the air, while the rest of the children's heads bobbed up from their scrolls at the sound.

"Miss Bibb, don't forget to raise your hand _silently _next time. Remember, we are taking a quiz."

Ms. Bartram walked over to the curly-haired blonde child's desk to answer her question. The girl's cloud of hair shuddered as she nodded her head ferociously in reply to Bartram's whispered, "do you understand?"

Severus was observing Bartram's class for the third time. During his first observation, he had noted that she was moving at an acceptable pace through the second-year curriculum, and that she had been truthful when she claimed to be good with young children. However, Severus did not think her overly-sweet and sometimes patronizing tone of voice would appeal to an older, more critical audience. He would observe once more today, during her fourth-year class to see if his suspicions proved to be true.

For the most part, first-years were over-excited when using magic, and over-eager to use their wands in class. Severus shuddered at the memory of a first-year potions mishaps magnified one hundred-fold by the ill-timed and over-zealous use of a wand by a student.

However, the longer Severus sat in the defense classroom watching the Bartram's first-year class, the more he felt that first-years were _almost_ tolerable - when he was not the one in charge of the class.

Once class was dismissed, and Horatia Bartram had waved goodbye to the last first-year boy, she dropped her smile and sauntered toward Severus.

"I hope you are writing good things about me in that book, Severus."

Severus stood abruptly.

"Professor Bartram, I hardly think we are on a first name basis, as I have yet to decide whether to replace you with one of my seventh-year Ravenclaw students."

She blinked once, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke.

"Forgive me, Professor Snape. I was only following the precedent set by the rest of the faculty. Please inform if and when I may address you in the same manner."

Bartram spun heel and walked back to her desk, composing herself.

"May I take your silence on the adequacy of my teaching as approval?"

Severus tucked his journal away and walked to the door.

"At present, I am not prepared to discuss my observations. I shall return tomorrow during the fourth year class, after which we shall discuss your performance."

Bartram smiled, her heavy-lidded eyes following him.

"I look forward to it, Professor."

Severus felt her gaze on his back as he left, walking briskly. There was something predatory in Bartram's mesmerizing eyes, yet her confidence seemed to be a delicately balanced act. Severus suspected that it would not take much to break down her overly confident and seductive act to see what kind of insecurities hid underneath; however, it was not something he particularly cared to pursue. He had better things to do than make Bartram a personal project. If she was competent as a teacher, he would be satisfied to let her teach and give her as little trouble as possible. If only she would return the favor.

Severus took a walk around the castle, not yet willing to return to his office and the inevitable paperwork that awaited him there. He must review the students' year placements, as the results of the OWLs were in, and send letters out to their parents. He intended for all parents to receive the correspondence, whether they be muggle or magical families. In the past, muggle parents would not have been informed. It would be preferable to leave the task to Minerva, but she was busy assisting students with class schedules and holding meetings over OWL results.

Minerva stepped out of her classroom as he walked by, sending a student out in front of her.

"Thank, you Professor," said the girl, a shy first-year with waist-length hair in pigtails. Severus struggled to remember her name.

"You're welcome, dear," said Minerva, with uncharacteristic kindness, "Now, quickly, back to charms!"

"First breakdown of the year?" asked Severus.

"Merlin, no," said Minerva. "Just one of many. That one reminds me of Miss Granger. She has read every book on magic she could get her hands on, and sharp as a tack, but socially inept. Only child, muggle parents, and has never been away from home. Ah well, she will find her place soon enough."

"Let us hope so," said Severus, "and for the rest of the staff's sakes, let us hope she is not quite such a know-it-all as Miss Granger at that age. She seems to have a timid temperament."

Minerva only smiled.

"Miss Granger seems quite happy to be back in classes. Have you seen her schedule? I do not believe I have ever seen a Gryffindor with such a course load. The girl is certainly ambitious."

"Indeed," said Severus.

"Have you made a decision about Bartram? I have yet to hear you say much about her."

"Not officially," said Severus, "I plan to observe her fourth-year class as well."

"She is certainly a favorite with the students already. I believe the older boys would not mind if you gave her all the classes and sent Kingsley back to the Ministry."

Light danced in Minerva's eyes.

"So, how many times will you observe the poor woman, Severus?" Minerva said, prodding him with a wicked smile, "I am astonished that you are so taken with Ms. Bartram already. I expected it of Kingsley, but I thought surely you would be capable of behaving more professionally."

"What are you going on about, Minerva?" he has asked tiredly, "I believe it was _you_ who suggested a minimum of three formal observations before she was granted a year-long position."

McGonagall smiled again, eyes twinkling, "So I did, and I know you have the best interest of the students in mind. However, it seems that Professor Bartram is under the impression that your visits stem from more _personal_ interest than professional."

Severus felt his eyebrows shoot up in response.

"Why would she tell you such a thing?"

"She did not, but the castle walls have ears, Severus. It seems she has taken notice of the fact that you have not observed the other new hires yet, but have spent quite a bit of time with her. Perhaps she sees what she wants to see in your motives..."

"Then, she is a fool."

"Hmmm... perhaps. However, she is skilled in defense, and quite intelligent if her transcripts and recommendations are to be believed."

Severus left, as they were interrupted by Minerva's next appointment.

Severus decided to make a stop by Margaret White's classroom. He should not have to justify his reservations about Horatia Bartram, or his observation of her classes, but if the silly seductress was going to start rumors about herself, he would quickly put and end to the charade.

It was quite a long walk from Minerva's office, but the castle made it easier for the headmaster, opening the lift passage for him and depositing him on the proper floor, just a few years from the room. Severus was pleased to find the door open to the Muggle Studies room. He stood in the hall and listened for a few minutes.

"Okay, next we are going to listen to a few Muggle songs. I want you to write down any words you don't understand. After that, we will see if they are Muggle words, or just words you don't know yet. It's okay if you don't know how to spell it, just do the best you can. Everybody have their quills and ink ready?"

Severus entered the classroom and stood at the back. Professor White played a few songs for the students, the majority of which did not have any special Muggle vocabulary. Lyrics about muggle wars, muggle celebrities, muggle inventions, and muggle currency were the only words that students from magical families would not recognize.

"Raise your hand if you have more than five words on your list."

Most of the students raised their hands.

"Who has more than eight words?"

Half of the hands went back down.

"And what about more than ten words?"

No hands remained in the air.

"All right. Somebody tell me one of the words on your list. Raise your hands!"

White pointed to a second-year boy near the front, whose hand had flown up at lightning speed.

"Clowns?"

"Okay. A clown. Does anybody here know what a clown is?"

Scattered hands shot up around the classroom.

"Go ahead, Lissa."

"It's a person who dresses in clothes that don't fit, and paints a big smile on their face. Oh, and wears a big red nose, sometimes... and they... they, uh... do funny things to make people laugh..."

"Lissa, why do you think Muggles have clowns?"

"Um... to make kids happy. Sometimes they pay to go watch them... at the circus... or they pay them to come to a kid's birthday party. My brother had one, but he was scared of it!"

"Good. So, we might say that clowns are entertainers. What kinds of people are entertainers in the magical world?"

"The Weird Sisters!" said a girl with black curls enthusiastically.

"How do they entertain us magical folk, Gabriella?" asked White.

"They sing, and play guitars, and they are AWESOME!" Gabriella giggled.

"What about little children? How do magical parents entertain their children at birthday parties?" asked White. "You are all older, and you probably have not been to see one in a long time..."

"Oh!" The first boy to answer threw his hand up again.

"A Silly-Wizzy!"

"Yes, that's right. And a Silly-Wizzy is very much like a clown, except that he or she wears a brightly-colored robe and uses spells to make their hair change colors instead of wearing a wig. Let's hear some more of the words on your lists..."

After hearing a few more words, Professor White stopped the discussion.

"Okay, class, before you start working on your muggle biographies, we need to talk about the music and words we just heard. Is anybody surprised that they knew what these muggle musicians were talking about? Nobody here had more than ten words on their list. What does that mean?"

Silence followed. White sat on the edge of her desk, feet dangling above the floor.

"What it means, is that Muggles are not that different from witches and wizards. Some of you already know that, because one of your parents is a witch or a wizard, and one is a Muggle. We are going to learn about these famous Muggles just like we learn about the history of magic, and all the important witches and wizards who have come before us. The magical world and the Muggle world are still connected, even though in modern times, most Muggles do not know that magic exists. That is why Muggles have fairy tale stories. A long, long time ago, Muggles knew about us, but now they think magic is just a story."

After this speech, White passed out Muggle books to the students, and allowed them to work in pairs on the biographies. Once the students were working, she came to stand beside Severus.

"Welcome to Muggle Studies," she said, peering up at him over the top of her black-rimmed glasses.

"You seem to enjoy the classroom," said Severus. "Have you had any problems thus far?"

White chuckled.

"Oh, no, not at all. They have been quite the set of angels, ever since I told them my life story. I seem to be something of a celebrity, especially to the muggle-born children. The rest of them don't know what to make of me."

Severus watched the students work for a moment.

"Better you than I, Professor White. I dare not step back in to a classroom after all that has happened."

White gave him a long look.

"Nonsense... they would hang on your every word."

Professor White left to answer a student's question, and Severus took his leave to the surreptitious glances of the second-years.

Unwilling to go back to his office so early in the day, Severus walked the halls for a while. Margaret White would be the finest Muggle Studies professor to ever grace Hogwarts with her knowledge, and would likely be a favorite of all but the most blood-purity indoctrinated youths. Fortunately, she would be teaching at the best possible time to reach those young minds – after their lives and families had just been changed forever by a foolish war.

His thoughts turned to Draco Malfoy. The boy had still looked ill the previous day when Severus has stopped him in the hall, and while his behavior was somewhat to be expected after all that had happened to his family during the war, Severus could not shake the feeling that there was something quite wrong with the boy. Perhaps he should write to Narcissa, after a bit more observation.

After lunch, Severus observed Kingsley's class of fifth year students. Kingsley was quite charismatic, and he seemed to hold to students' attention in the palm of his hand. Severus was satisfied with the depth of material he was able to cover in one lesson, though less impressed with the lack of homework assigned.

_A crowd-pleaser, but competent, _Severus thought. At least Kingsley would easily command respect from the older children, something that Bartram would never be able to do. Severus did not wait to speak with Professor Shaklebolt at the end of class. Catching Kingsley eye with a short nod of approval, he bowed out of the classroom.

That night at dinner, Severus found himself seated beside Horatia Bartram. It seemed that Minerva was recovering from a vicious migraine in the infirmary (or so claimed Poppy), so Bartram had taken the open seat. Severus ignored her, but Horatia was not content to be silent.

"Professor Snape, I think you will enjoy my fourth-year lesson tomorrow. It involves... singing."

Severus glanced irritably at her.

"Professor Bartram, I should think you know my reputation well enough to assume otherwise."

She laughed, and said brightly, "Indeed, sir, I believe I do. Perhaps you are surprised that I would use music in my classroom as well. When you knew me, I was a particularly quiet, sullen child who despised all group activities. Do you remember the year Professor Lomsley made participation in the Christmas concert mandatory for all fourth-years? It was torture for me... and everyone else too, I think."

"It was no coincidence that it was also the last year Hogwarts had a Christmas concert," Severus acknowledged.

A few moments of blessed silence stretched between them, and Severus took the opportunity to turn to Margaret White.

"Professor White, I was quite pleased with your observation this morning. Is the classroom to your liking? It had been long neglected, I'm afraid."

Margaret nodded.

"It will do, Severus. There is nothing I want at the moment."

"If you find you are in need of any particular supplies, simply let the house elves know."

Severus took at sip from his goblet, and nearly spit it out when he felt something brush his leg. Something that felt suspiciously like Horatia Bartram's foot.

"Oh! Forgive me, Professor, I did not realize you were so... close. You are quite tall - your poor legs must be terribly cramped under the table."

Severus slid slightly away from her in his chair.

"Professor Bartram, you seem to take up more space than a woman of your dimensions should need."

She smiled.

"Then there is also the awkward problem of being left-handed at dinner," she said, purposefully bumping elbows with him.

"Something you should have learned to deal with by now," said Severus.

Margaret White was chatting with Poppy, so Severus continued to eat stoically, waiting for the next interruption from Horatia. It was not long before she sighed.

"Forgive me if I'm bothering you, Professor. I am not accustomed to eating in silence. May I ask... why did you hire Kingsley Shaklebolt instead of teaching the those classes yourself. You would have been a fantastic source of knowledge for advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"As is Professor Shaklebolt," said Severus.

"Come now, he might be a great auror, and I'm sure he has seen terrible things in his time, but compared to you... your superior intelligence and depth of knowledge of the dark arts make you the best prepared to teach defense. Your reputation was still known in Slytherin house when I came to Hogwarts. I always thought it should have been you teaching DADA, not-"

"Professor Bartram! As a fellow Slytherin, you should recall that we are not inclined to take on burdensome amounts of work out of the goodness of our hearts. I am quite busy enough with the responsibilities of headmaster. Furthermore, if you think that stroking my ego will help you earn a spot as a permanent faculty member, you are terribly wrong."

Horatia sipped from her goblet.

"Forgive me, Professor, but you are quite mistaken about my intentions."

She glanced at him from the corners of her heavy-lidded eyes.

The meal continued in silence, punctuated only by the occasional comment from Madame Pomfrey. Severus stared at the students seated in front of him, most of them laughing and eating happily. His eyes always found the others, though... the ones who ate silently and alone, or quickly between furtive glances at their peers before hurrying off to the dormitories or the library.

Perhaps it was time to stop eating in silence. It was clear to both himself and Ms. Bartram that her teaching position was not in danger this year, despite his threats. It was also clear that Ms. Bartram was desperate for his attention. Would it not be natural to have a little fun?

Severus cleared his throat.

"Tell me, Ms. Bartram... has your singing improved since you were a student, or do you plan to use your voice as a punishment in the classroom?"

Horatia choked a bit on her glazed ham and turned to stare at him.

"Professor Snape, that is... something I intend to be a surprise."

She grinned as if she had just won a prize.


	7. Chapter 7: Hermione's Library

**Chapter Seven: Hermione's Library**

Hermione sat across from Ginny in the library. It was a small miracle that Hermione had been able to convince her friend to join her in the dusty shelves – the weather was so bad that even the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been forced to cancel practice. The crack of thunder was still faintly audible in the heart of the castle. Most of Gryffindor was having an impromptu rainy day party in the tower.

The girls had come to a sort of truce earlier in the week, late one night in the common room. Though they had not actually been fighting, they had not spoken to one another properly for months. Apologies, and promises of friendship had led them to agree to meet at least once a week without Ron or Harry.

"Hermione, are you seriously going to study today?"

Ginny, who had been staring incredulously at the book in Hermione's hand, dropped her head to the desk with a soft _thunk. _

Hermione laughed.

"You should know me well enough to answer that question, Ginny!"

Ginny sighed.

"I know, but I need you to try, for just a moment, to be a normal person who does not carry textbooks with her at all times."

Hermione snorted, "Oh, really, and I suppose by that you mean that I should be slacking off at the beginning of the most important year of my schooling? Before I take the N.E.W.T.S?"

With an exaggerated "tsk, tsk", Hermione smiled at the red head, who was still sprawled out face down on the desk.

"Ginny."

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to be okay?"

Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Yes. No. I don't... know. I'm just so PISSED at Harry! Still! He goes around acting like _I'm _the one who broke it off, staring daggers at me every time I so much as speak to another guy, as if the reason we are not together is that I just got tired of him. It is so far from the truth..."

Hermione shifted slightly in her chair. She did not know what to say, and thought it best to let Ginny tell her side of the story. Hermione had, somewhat unfairly, distanced herself from Ginny while Ron and Harry fought, and had chosen Harry's side purely on the grounds that he needed her friendship more.

"I know I was horrible to be around for a while... but Fred..."

Her eyes teared up.

"You weren't there to see it, Hermione. Harry was such a sullen prat whenever he was around our family. I know he was mourning, as well, but... it was like he resented us because everything was different. Then he got angrier and angrier at Ron, and it was just ridiculous, because even _you _had forgiven Ron at that point."

Hermione's eyes welled up without warning. Ginny sniffed and wiped her own eyes.

"Hermione, I am truly sorry for what my brother did, but I still love him. Harry just would not let me keep the peace."

Ginny heaved another heavy sigh.

"He wanted everything to be the same as it always was... you three, best friends. You and Ron, me and Harry, together. He could not let it go. And I felt guilty for wishing he would get over it already, because he has lost so much..."

Hermione played with the pages of the book in front of her.

"I know, Ginny. Harry and Ron are both quite terrible at admitting when they are wrong, and quite determined to hold a grudge. I hope they will make up... but I don't think it will be soon."

She glanced up at Ginny.

"I think it would help if Ron was able to do _anything _without Padma... Harry really doesn't like her."

Ginny laughed.

"Merlin, you think, Hermione? Poor Padma... she is really not _so_ bad, but it was the worst timing imaginable for them to get together... and she just tries too hard with Harry, you know? It comes across as arrogance."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Ginny continued,

"I hope this doesn't upset you, but she _has _liked Ron since third year... she was so disappointed when he ignored her at the Yule Ball! Apparently, she had the worst crush on him until sixth year, and then gave up when he started getting closer to you."

Hermione felt a twinge of pity for the poor girl, who would had been falling for Ron at the same time that Ron was realizing that he wanted his best female friend to be something more. They must have been united in their hatred of Lavender Brown.

"Oh," said Ginny, "and she was positively _terrified _that you might take some kind of revenge on her after Snape cured you from that curse."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Well, I _am _known to jinx those who cross me..."

"Padma's _much _better than Pavarti," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know how those two are related, much less twins."

"Pavarti is better than Lavender, though," remarked Hermione, "At least she doesn't giggle incessantly. It makes ignoring the idle gossip a bit easier."

"Oh, they are both such snobs," said Ginny, "and if I have to listen to Anthony Goldstein ramble on about some obscure historical wizard one more time..."

Ginny sighed once more.

"I miss Harry."

Hermione took a moment to consider what she should say. Was it right of her to meddle, or should she wait for her friends to seek out one another on their own?

"Ginny, I think you should talk to him."

Hermione watched her friend's face become curious, yet guarded.

"What has he said, Hermione?"

"Nothing, really, but he is miserable, too. Ron and I were not meant to be together, and I can see now that it would not have lasted... it's best that we never a proper couple, after all. Who knows how long we would have tried to make it work before it destroyed our friendship? But Harry... from how he reacted to the situation, I know that if it had been you under that curse, he would never have left your side. That's something... that deserves another chance... I think."

Hermione hesitated, seeing hope well up in Ginny's eyes.

"It could be – though he has said _nothing _of the sort to me, mind you – that perhaps he felt betrayed by your support of Ron and Padma's relationship. Perhaps, it made him wonder if you considered your relationship with him just as casual, and would abandon him as easily as Ron did me. It could be part of the reason you two fought over Ron so much..."

Ginny was quiet for a while, staring at the bookshelves beside them.

"Yeah. I think you could be right. I would never have thought he would feel... that he didn't _know _how much I... Merlin's balls, what if you're right?"

She covered her face with her hands.

"I'm a heartless bitch, Hermione."

"Gin-"

She groaned in anguish.

I'm as oblivious as _Ron _after all."

Hermione and Ginny went their separate ways at dinner, to Ron and Harry accordingly, and Hermione could not help feeling a bit uneasy about the hope she had given Ginny. Perhaps it was too soon for her to approach Harry. That he missed her was obvious, but he was terribly stubborn when he was angry. And he was terribly angry at nobody and everybody – Harry seemed determined that none of his relationships should have changed after the war. He wanted his friends to be as they always had been, and Hermione did not think he had properly mourned the deaths of those who had died in the final battle at Hogwarts.

Her thoughts heavy on her mind, she ate dutifully, if not mindlessly.

"Hermione."

"Mmm?" she hummed through a mouth of potatoes.

Harry turned to her.

"What do you make of Malfoy this year?"

Hermione swallowed her food and gathered her thoughts.

"I haven't thought much about him at all, Harry," she answered truthfully. "Though, he did sort of – corner me in the hall the other day. He said he wanted to speak with me privately."

"What?! Hermione... why didn't you tell me? Did you talk to him?"

"Harry, it was nothing, I told him I was busy. I thought he probably wanted to apologize or something, but to be honest, I was not sure I'd be the appropriate person to hear it or to offer forgiveness. I'm not sure I can truly forgive him yet..."

"Yeah..." Harry said. "He's been acting strange – he turns up everywhere I go, but I haven't caught him following me yet. I've never seen him about in the halls as much as I have this year, and he is always alone. Look!"

Hermione glanced at Slytherin table to see that indeed, Draco Malfoy sat alone, with distance on either side between him and his classmates. Pansy was hanging on the arm of a tall sixth year boy with the most beautiful eyes Hermione had ever seen on a Slytherin.

"Who is that with Pansy?" she mumbled.

"Huh?" Harry made a face, "Gross, Hermione. Really? If he's with Pansy, he's probably a nutter."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She needed more female friends.

"Yes, Harry, Malfoy seems to have lost his friends... perhaps he really has changed. It would not be impossible."

Harry was silent for a moment.

"I think he's up to something."

Hermione sighed.

"Harry. Leave Malfoy be... I'm sure he is just trying to get through the year so that he can forget about everything that happened here."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy again. He was eating quickly, looking down at the table. His face was so pale, he almost looked like a ghost – a shade or two lighter than he normally appeared. Hermione wondered if she should have agreed to hear whatever it was he wanted to tell her. Perhaps he was different now... after all, there was nothing forcing him to return to Hogwarts. He was here of his own free will, presumably.

The feeling of being watched pricked Hermione's senses like a cool caress. She focused her mind on the sensation, and casually looked around the Great Hall, until her eyes landed on the head table. Professor Snape was staring straight ahead at her, while Professor Bartram leaned in and spoke to him with a sly smile.

_She's mental if she thinks Severus Snape is enjoying her company, _thought Hermione.

Slowly, one of Professor Snape's eyebrows rose higher. Hermione looked away.

"Harry," she said, "how is your Herbology paper coming?"

Harry groaned, "Bollocks. When is that due?"

"Day after tomorrow," Hermione said calmly.

Harry mumbled something to himself, ending with "... as bloody well... nothing _else _to do..."

"I suppose you've finished yours, then?" he asked hopefully.

"Actually, I'm working on it tonight. Want to meet me in the library?"

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, sure."

Hermione resisted stealing another glance at the head table until the end of the meal. As she and Harry left to collect their books for the library, she was surprised to see a neutral look on the headmaster's face. Hermione could not look away as she watched him stand and in one fluid motion bend close to the young defense teacher to give a reply. Hermione could not help wondering what sort of biting remark he had hissed in Bartram's ear.

Though she and Harry had quite a head start out of the hall, Hermione knew that Professor Snape was not far behind. She could sense a great deal of frustration radiating from him, and wondered if he realized that she could still read his emotions so easily. The sensation faded, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see him turn toward his office as she and Harry took the shortcut to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry was much better at writing essays when Ron was not around, Hermione observed later that evening. He was nearly done, and was currently engrossed in a passage from _Plants and Plant-like Magical Creatures_ that Hermione had recommended.

Hermione had finished her own essay over an hour earlier, and was just finishing up her initial list of sources for her Arithmancy project. As interesting as the research was, Hermione found herself yawning.

Harry looked up.

"Er- Hermione... I've just about finished. Just one... last... paragraph..." he said, as he squinted at the page, then grabbed his quill and scribbled furiously.

Hermione stretched her arms above her head.

"Harry, I'm so proud of you... I think you've really done well on this essay."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get too excited. It's a solid middle-of-the-road effort, I'm sure. Probably on par with your third year work... at least Professor Sprout doesn't take off for spelling."

Hermione smiled, "well, not for you, anyway..."

Harry looked up again.

"Huh?"

"Harry, I think she may have a bit of a soft spot for you. She certainly takes off spelling for Ron... and me -er – occasionally."

Harry simply sighed, and kept writing.

"Sorry, Hermione."

Harry and Hermione left the library nearly empty, except for a few fourth-year girls huddled over a handful of back issues of _Young Witch. _As they passed, Hermione stopped short, causing Harry to bump into her.

"Ooof! Merlin's beard, Hermione, what is it?"

Hermione blinked and tore her gaze away from the cover of the magazine currently held open in one of the girl's hands.

_Severus Snape, Harry Potter, or Charlie Krepp? Who is your wizard type? Take the quiz!_

The cover of the magazine featured Charlie Krepp, a wizard pop star heart-throb, wearing an open robe with no undershirt.

"I- uh – thought I forgot my bag for a moment," said Hermione, "let's go."

It would be best if Harry did not know he had been lumped with Professor Snape and a teen pop sensation by a rubbish magazine sometime in the past few months.

A few days later, Hermione found herself alone in the library, unable to convince Harry, Ginny, or even Luna to study with her. Neville and Luna were still together, and according to the portraits, spent an inordinate amount of time snogging in remote areas of the castle.

Hermione flipped the heavy volume in front of her shut with a thud and started to gather her things. It was quite late.

As Hermione's thoughts turned from the complexities of Arithmancy to the dusty, stale library around her, she heard a rather strange noise... like a hushed sigh.

Tossing the last of her work under her arm, she quietly walked toward the exit, trying to look about the shelves inconspicuously as she passed.

She turned her head to the right, just as she heard the unmistakable sound of someone snogging.

_Ugh, please not in _my _library, Neville, _she thought, then gasped.

Ginny and Dean Thomas were embracing in the Charms section. Ginny met Hermione's eyes in surprise, then quickly looked away and pushed Dean farther back into the aisle, into a small alcove.

Hermione hurried from the library. She did not notice that she had dropped a roll of parchment until she was out of the library, and heard a voice behind her call out her name.

"Granger!"

Hermione slowed and looked over her shoulder.

"Malfoy?"

The shockingly pale young wizard strode toward her, looking nervous.

"You dropped this."

He held out the parchment. Hermione stopped and turned around.

"I did?"

"Yes, in the library. I was studying..."

Draco trailed off, staring at her, still holding the parchment out. Hermione took it from him.

"Er- thanks," she said.

He was still staring at her, so Hermione started inching backward.

"I, uh, need to... go..." said Hermione.

"Isn't it your night to check the halls?" said Malfoy suddenly.

"Ah... yes. I suppose it is," Hermione allowed.

"Then... I should go, before you give me detention."

"Er... yes. It _is _past hours."

Malfoy blinked and looked at some point in the distance behind Hermione.

"Well, goodnight, then."

Hermione stood staring at the empty spot in front of her as he walked away.

It was not long before Hermione heard from Ginny. At breakfast the next morning, Ginny pulled her aside.

"I need to talk to you, Hermione."

Reluctant as Hermione was to hear Ginny come up with excuses for running back to Dean Thomas, she finished her toast and followed Ginny out to a remote spot in the courtyard. They sat silently for a moment before Hermione spoke.

"So... Dean Thomas."

Ginny nodded.

"Dean Thomas."

Hermione simply raised one eyebrow.

"He's fun, Hermione, and he's a good friend. I've told him it's casual for now, and he agrees. It's just, you weren't around after I talked to Harry, and I Dean was... and he is really good at snogging!"

Hermione frowned.

"After you talked to Harry...?"

Ginny laughed a little.

"There wasn't a lot of talking, Hermione. First he refused to say anything, then he started yelling at me for 'flirting with every guy who looks at me'..."

Hermione sighed.

"So... you ran straight to Dean and started snogging? Why?"

Ginny started to sound defensive.

"Look, Hermione, I'm not like you. I don't like being single. I've been trying to make up with Harry for months, now. After the other day, I don't think it will ever happen. Maybe it's time to move on... the only reason Dean and I broke up was Harry. Before Dean started getting jealous, it was really great with him, and it turns out he was right about my interest in Harry. So, how else would he have acted? And after all that happened, he did not hold it against me or Harry and still wanted to be friends... which says a lot about his character. "

Hermione looked away.

"Ginny, be careful."

"Why would you say that?"

"Dean is a great guy... but I don't think for a moment that he is willing to keep dating you 'casually', and I doubt you will remain friends if it doesn't work out this time."

Ginny shrugged.

"He makes me happy. Harry only wants to fight. I don't know what might happen with Dean, but I want to give him another chance. Don't worry Hermione – he knows I'm on the rebound. We are taking it slow."

Another raised eyebrow prompted Ginny to amend her statement.

"Okay, fine. We are _trying _to take it slow."

Hermione left Ginny with no more advice, feeling an incredible sadness weigh down on her. She was mourning the end of Harry and Ginny's relationship at last, for she had been certain that it was not over and that soon, she would be able to spend time with Harry and Ginny together. It was quite tiring to be stuck between the two of them. Who would she pick, if forced to choose sides?

_Harry, of course, _thought Hermione. While it was nice to have a girlfriend (other than Luna, who was not much good for serious conversation), Hermione would always side with Harry. He needed her, and valued her friendship more, even if he was being an idiot at the moment.

Hermione watched Ginny and Dean for the next few weeks, and true to Ginny's word, they seemed to be dating casually. If Hermione had not seen them together in the library, she would not have realized they were even a couple. There were no public displays of affection, flirtatious bickering in hall, or intimate glances in class. They were surprisingly discreet, though Hermione could discern a closeness that went beyond friendship. Harry was oblivious, and actually seemed to think Ginny was interested in Dermot Diamande, a handsome, but shy Hufflepuff boy who sometimes stopped her in the hall to talk Quidditch. In fact, Harry seemed to have gotten closer to Dean himself now that Ron was otherwise occupied in the evenings.

When she was not studying, performing Head Girl duties, and attending Quidditch practices or games, Hermione was with her friends. She and Harry spent a great deal of time together, but not at the risk of anything romantic developing. They were best friends, now... better friends than ever, but there were limits to what one was willing to do with the other. Hermione was terrible at Quidditch, and Harry would only study as a last resort. He completely tuned out when she started analyzing a spell or a potion.

Luna and Neville were always entertaining, but were still stuck in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and Hermione wondered if it would ever end. Ernie Macmillan and Neville had become friends over the past year, and Hannah Abbott often showed up with Ernie as well.

Despite seeing Harry, Ginny, Dean, Luna, Neville, Ernie, and Hannah every day, Hermione could not help feeling that something was missing. Perhaps it was the quasi-relationship with Ron she missed. Perhaps it was Ron's friendship. Perhaps she was just ready to graduate and start the next chapter of her life.


End file.
